The Visit
by Ashliebelle
Summary: Voldemort makes an offer to the wizarding world: 1,000,000 galleons for everyone in Britian in exchange for Harry's life. REVIEWS: 'an incredibly well written and depressing story' 'It's kept on the edge of my seat' 'skilfully written, absolutely chilling
1. Poor Wizarding World

Chapter 1  
  
Harry Potter wiped the perspiration off of his scarred forehead, peering up at the sign above his head. The old piece of wood had the words "The Leaky Cauldron" etched into it, and it swung methodically in the light breeze. With a grunt, Harry pushed his large trunk with Hedwig's cage on top through the door into the dark, cool foyer.  
  
"Why, hello Harry!" Tom the innkeeper said, looking up from his desk. "What are you doing here? It's 2 more weeks until you'll be wanting your school supplies."  
  
"I left home early," Harry replied, trying to hide the bruise under his right eye. "I used muggle transportation, so I've had to push this all around London." He nodded toward the trunk. "Could I stay here until term begins?"  
  
For the first time, Harry noticed the decrepit state of the bar. Numerous lights were out and many tables and chairs were broken. He remembered it being a lot nicer the last time he was there.  
  
"Of course you can stay here," Tom said eagerly, "I've been needing some business ever since…" his eyes grazed over the ragged room. "Can I take you things upstairs?" He headed over to Harry.  
  
As he watched Tom wheel the trunk to the stairway, Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. 'Ever since what, I wonder?' He shrugged and stepped over a stray piece of wood and followed Tom.  
  
Once Tom left him to unpack, Harry let Hedwig out of her cage, and then got a quill and parchment to write a letter to Ron and Hermione. He wanted to let them know that he had left the Dursley's house. He scribbled a note quickly, making the first letter to Ron. In the middle of a sentence, he paused suddenly.  
  
I left the Dursley's house because…  
  
Harry touched his black eye tenderly; it still stung. He erased the word "because" and ended the sentence. He didn't want Ron to know.  
  
Finishing both notes, he gave them to Hedwig who joyfully spread her wings and flew out the open window. Harry unpacked the rest of his belongings and took a look in the mirror.  
  
"You're taller than I remember," the mirror said in a hoarse voice. Harry straightened up. It was true, he had grown a lot over the summer. He wondered if he had finally reached Ron's height, or if Ron was still growing too. A grin spread across his face as he imagined a 6'10" Ron stooping under his doorway and into the tiny room.  
  
Harry realized suddenly how quiet it was in the Leaky Cauldron. Normally there was a group of people talking at the bar clanging their glasses together or dropping their utensils. If there weren't people in the bar, then Harry would have expected to at least hear some faint commotion from Diagon Alley.  
  
He went downstairs and out the back into the alley. He took his wand out of his pocket and stared at the bricks, trying to remember which one opened the gateway. He began to randomly tap them in the general area in which he thought the special brick was. Before long, the wall began to split apart and opened up to an archway just Harry's size.  
  
He stepped under it, and it closed silently behind him. He gasped and almost dropped his wand when he turned his attention to the Alley. Instead of a loud, boisterous crowd, there were only a handful of people milling about randomly from store to store. Some of the buildings were boarded up, with "out of business" signs hanging from their windows or doors. It was dirty and brown, and a hundred times less cheerful than Harry ever remembered it being.  
  
A faint wind blew a few pieces of loose garbage across the street that landed at Harry's feet.  
  
His heart skipped a few beats as he thought, 'What's happened here?'  
  
**  
  
Harry numbly pocketed his wand after absorbing the desolate scene in front of him. The low evening sun reflected off of empty windows and splashed everything in a deep red. Harry looked at his feet where some loose pieces of paper had blown. He recognized one of them as the front page to The Daily Prophet, and picked it up to read it. The headline read in huge letters "Bankrupt!"  
  
Harry sat down on the front steps of a vacant store to read the story.  
  
"The Ministry of Magic itself declared bankruptcy yesterday in an emergency financial meeting in London. Although Cornelius Fudge has denied reporters any kind of interview, a spokesperson for the Ministry stated that half of all personnel have been let go because of the money shortage. As many readers know, the sudden and mysterious depletion of wizard currency that occurred in early June of this year has taken its toll on every individual in the magical world. Unfortunately, because of the amount of money needed for such a large-scale investigation, the Ministry has been unable to successfully pinpoint the cause of the financial disaster, but they assure everyone that the cause will soon be found and also thank everyone for their patience."  
  
Harry lowered the newspaper with his mouth hanging open. A wizard money shortage? He dropped the paper and began to jog deeper into Diagon Alley. Ignoring the strange looks he got from a few witches and wizards he began to run faster toward the heart of the Alley. Turning a corner, he tripped on the cobblestone street and fell down right in front of Gringotts Bank. He picked himself up and quickly trotted up the marble steps to the doors. Instead of an "out of business" sign, there was a note stuck to one of the double doors. Harry leaned close to read the small lettering.  
  
"The Ministry of Magic has taken all money stored in Gringotts Bank in order to investigate the cause of the money shortage. We will replenish your account when the money becomes available. Meanwhile, we ask that you do not depend on the money in your vault because the timeframe of the shortage is unknown. Please, no more Howlers. Gringotts Goblins"  
  
Harry turned and sat on the cold marble steps, burying his face in his hands. All of his money was gone! Apart from the small stash of coins in his trunk, he was broke. Everything he needed depended on the money in his vault. He was as poor as the Weasleys.  
  
The Weasleys… Harry sighed heavily. If half of all Ministry of Magic personnel had been fired, he was almost sure that Mr. Weasley had lost his job. And Harry thought his situation was bad; he couldn't imagine trying to support a wife and five children without a job.  
  
The sky turned from red to purple as the sun began to creep under the horizon. Harry got up and walked slowly back towards The Leaky Cauldron. He glanced up from the ground every once in a while to see which stores were still running. The Quidditch Supplies store wasn't closed down, and neither was Flourish and Blotts. But, Madame Malkins robe shop was out of business, and so was the Apothecary. Harry wasn't sure what he was going to do about getting new potions supplies for his fifth year.  
  
Harry glanced up the street and was surprised to see that Ollivanders was still up and running. It always looked dingy, even when there wasn't a money crisis. Harry stopped in front of the wand shop when he saw a faint candlelight glowing inside. He was overcome with curiosity and walked inside.  
  
The bell on the door rang shrilly, and Mr. Ollivander looked up from his desk where the candle flickered in the soft breeze.  
  
"Ah, Harry Potter," he said with a small smile, "how nice to see you again." Mr. Ollivander motioned to the chair in front of his desk, and Harry took a seat. "I congratulate you on your victory in the Triwizard Tournament," the old wizard said, "although I do wish it would have ended more… peacefully." Mr. Ollivander pale eyes stared at a slender box on a table across the room. Harry thought it must have been Cedric Diggory's wand.  
  
"Anyhow," Mr. Ollivander continued, "what brings you to Diagon Alley this early? Trouble with your wand?"  
  
"No," said Harry, speaking for the first time since he'd left the Leaky Caludron. "No, I just came early, but I had no idea about all this money trouble. I came in here because I was wondering; how do you manage to keep your store open?"  
  
Mr. Ollivander shrugged and said, "I didn't keep any of my money at the bank so none of it was taken. After the slump, I lowered the price of wands so people could still afford them and I didn't loose too much business. The first years still need their wands, you know." Harry nodded in agreement.  
  
"What happened to your eye?" Mr. Ollivander asked, staring at Harry's face. Harry looked down and muttered, "Nothing."  
  
"Does it have something to do with your early arrival?" The old man's voice was concerned and, to Harry, a little condemning. The room became quiet and too hot. Harry abruptly stood up and flattened his hair absentmindedly.  
  
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, sir," Harry said, heading for the door. "I'll come back if I have any wand trouble." He opened the door and the bell rang again.  
  
"Harry," Mr. Ollivander said before Harry stepped outside, "if you need to talk or anything like that, you know you can come here." Harry looked over at Mr. Ollivander, whose clear eyes reminded him of Dumbledore's. Harry nodded, and walked out of the store.  
  
A deep blue sky expanded over the alley with the not quite full moon above Harry's head. He reached the brick wall and opened it. He stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron and said goodnight to Tom.  
  
"Oh Harry!" Tom said while Harry walked upstairs, "Could I ask you to please pay for your stay in advance? I mean, it would really help me out a lot."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Oh, thank you!" Tom said, relieved. "Don't worry, I'll get it from you in the morning. You can go ahead on to bed."  
  
Harry went to his room, where Hedwig was sleeping in her cage. A letter was sitting on Harry's pillow.  
  
'Wow, that was fast!' he thought as he opened it. It was from Ron.  
  
Hey Harry!  
  
You'll never guess where I am. I'm staying at a muggle hotel about 2 blocks from you! I've got so much to talk to you about, so let's meet tomorrow morning at the Leaky Cauldron at 10:00. See you then!  
  
Ron  
  
Harry folded up the letter and sat it on the nightstand. He wondered how on earth the Weasleys had enough money to stay at a hotel. Changing into his pajamas, Harry decided it didn't matter how, as long as he finally got to see Ron after such a bad summer.  
  
(end of Chapter 1) 


	2. Ron Weasley's Problem

Harry had a restless stay at the inn his first night. Before he went to bed, he gathered up all his wizard money from his trunk, relieved that he had enough to pay Tom for a two-week stay, but was discouraged that there would be very little left after that.  
  
He went to bed with an eerie silence resonating in his head like a high- pitched ring. Rolling over onto his side, then to his back, and then flipping over his pillow, Harry felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He lingered in a half-awake state, unable to get comfortable.  
  
His fitful sleep was interrupted by small noises echoing in the near-empty room. In Harry's mind, every creak of the old inn's wooden floorboards sounded like Uncle Vernon storming to Harry's bedroom, and every gurgle from the toilet in the next room turned into Dudley's loud burps and disgusting stomach noises.  
  
Waking with a jolt to the noise of a slamming door, Harry sat up quickly and reached for his glasses. He relaxed a little, realizing it was probably just Tom getting ready for the day. Harry looked at the clock on the wall to his right. It was 5:00 in the morning. The sky was still dark outside the dusty window.  
  
He yawned, feeling as though he hadn't fallen asleep at all during the night. He took off his glasses and fell lazily back down on his pillow.  
  
With a harsh bump, Harry's head hit the headboard just above his pillow. He sat up again, both of his hands clasped on the top of his skull while he muttered a few choice words under his breath.  
  
"Aren't you a bit young to be using such language?" the mirror coughed.  
  
"Let's see what you say after an awful night's sleep" Harry spat, rubbing his head.  
  
"Well, you might as well get up," said the mirror, ignoring Harry's foul mood, "no use extending the awful night even further."  
  
Although Harry's sore body begged for sleep, he agreed with the mirror and reached for his glasses. Checking one last time to make sure the back of his head wasn't bleeding, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He got dressed and stuffed his pajamas into a small laundry bag. Harry sighed, staring at the pile of gold on top of his night table. He put his cupped left hand to the edge of the table, and swept the coins into it with his other hand.  
  
Harry put the gold in his pocket and looked at the clock again. 5:30. He still had four and a half hours until Ron would be there, and since most of the Diagon Alley stores were either out of business or not opened for the day yet, Harry didn't know what to do with himself.  
  
Eventually, after a couple of dull hours reading his Quidditch books and polishing his Firebolt, Harry made his way down the stairs and gave Tom the money for 2 weeks room and board. Tom's eyes lit up brighter than the galleons when Harry pulled them out of his pocket.  
  
"So, you do have money!" said Tom, reaching for the gold. "Not to be rude, but I thought you might've been trying to have a free stay… I mean, who would stay here for two weeks when everything's closed?" Harry secretly and wholeheartedly agreed with Tom, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to stay.  
  
With empty pockets and drooping eyelids, Harry walked through The Leaky Cauldron's back door and opened up the brick wall.  
  
Diagon Alley was a little bit more alive than it had been the previous night. Although the streets weren't crowded, it wasn't entirely desolate. A few shopkeepers who had just opened for the day were sweeping the steps outside their doors in a vain attempt to make the place look clean, a small group of young wizards were huddled around the Quidditch supply store.  
  
Harry, curious to see if the young boys were pining over a new broomstick model, walked down the road toward them. As he got closer, he heard their disappointed voices.  
  
"I'll bet it's just a remake," one of them sighed. "You can tell because it looks like the old Comet."  
  
"What's a remake?" the smallest boy asked. He couldn't have been more than 5.  
  
"They just took the old model, made it look better, and called it a different name," said another boy.  
  
"Oh," said the small one, "well, even if it is, I just want to go in and look at it."  
  
The whole handful of boys inaudibly agreed, and walked away. Harry, overcome with curiosity went to the window. A broomstick was on display, but he noticed that it, in fact, was a remake of the Comet series. Harry noticed that although the Quidditch store was open, nobody was milling around inside. He went to the door to get a better look at everything inside, but a large sign in blue print was hung at eye level. "No window shoppers. Buyers only."  
  
Harry was discouraged to discover that most stores had the same sign or something similar to it on their doors. He used up his time just walking up and down the Alley, looking for someone he knew to talk to, but it was still too early for Hogwarts students to get their supplies. 'If they had enough money to even buy their supplies,' Harry thought.  
  
Finally, 10:00 rolled around, and Harry went back to The Leaky Cauldron. Ron was already waiting for him at a table set for two.  
  
"Harry!" Ron called and waved. For probably the first time that summer, Harry was genuinely happy. He smiled and sat down across from his best friend.  
  
"Harry, I've been wanting to talk to you for ages but Pig got sick so I haven't been able to send you much."  
  
"Oh," said Harry, who had noticed a definite decline in the amount of mail he'd received that summer. "What about Hermes?" Harry asked, thinking about the Weasley family's old owl, "is he sick too?"  
  
Ron winced a little and looked down at his glass of water. "Well, he did get sick, but I reckon it was just too much for him. He died."  
  
Harry frowned. Hermes, although old and frail, was always prepared for any delivery, no matter how far.  
  
"Anyway," said Ron, "what are you doing at The Leaky Cauldron? How come you left home early?"  
  
Harry, grateful that his bruised eye wasn't as noticeable as it had been the day before, said, "You've met the Dursleys, could you imagine staying there all summer?"  
  
"No, I suppose not. But didn't Dumbledore tell you not to—"  
  
"What about you?" Harry interrupted quickly. "How come you're staying at a muggle hotel?"  
  
"Well, you've probably noticed the money problem in the wizarding world now that you're here," Ron said, "and there was a meeting for the entire ministry two days ago (my dad had to go) so the guy who runs the hotel, this nice old wizard, is letting my whole family stay there for free until school starts."  
  
"Really? Wow!" Harry said, wishing he could stay somewhere for free. "Yeah, I just found out yesterday everything that's happened around here. I read the Daily Prophet, and they said that the ministry declared bankruptcy. Is it really true?"  
  
Ron nodded, poking at his eggs with a fork. "Yeah, it's true."  
  
Harry looked down at his untouched food. "Is your dad…" Harry hesitated as Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Is your dad still working for them?"  
  
Ron bit his upper lip, and then shook his head. He looked up and made eye contact with Harry. Ron's face was deathly serious and his voice cracked a little as he said, "Harry… we're totally broke. I don't know what we're going to do."  
  
Harry pursed his lips uncomfortably with a total lack of encouraging words to help his desperate friend.  
  
"If we don't get money soon, I'll…" Ron choked on his own words. "I'll have to quit going to Hogwarts and start working."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "S-stop going to Hogwarts?!" Harry began to trip over his words too. "But… but you can't… what will… I mean… No! No you can't be serious!" Harry shook his head furiously, unable to believe it. "Ron, you can't! Tell me your joking!"  
  
Just the look on Ron's face told Harry that he wasn't joking at all.  
  
"Ron… you're joking…"  
  
Ron slowly shook his head, and then buried his face in his hands. 


	3. The Face in the Fireplace

Harry told Ron that everything was going to be okay; that no matter what, he would be there for his friend. Ron just sat and held back tears, sipping at his water.  
  
"If only my vault money wasn't all gone," Harry lamented, "I would give [I]anything[/I] to keep you at Hogwarts!"  
  
Ron looked up, surprised. "Your money's gone? All of it!?" Harry nodded and winced just thinking about how much all his money amounted to.  
  
"What about your Triwizard money?" Ron asked. Harry accidentally dropped his fork right into his glass of water, which proceeded to tip over and spill all over his plate of untouched breakfast. As Ron grabbed for napkins, Harry numbly righted the glass. His Triwizard money… He had given it to the Weasley twins at the start of the summer in order to help them begin their own joke shop. Had they put that money in a vault as well? Had they spent it already?  
  
"Harry!? Do you want to help me or what?" Ron was reaching over the table mopping up Harry's mess.  
  
"Sorry," Harry finished sopping up the puddle.  
  
"Well, what about your Triwizard money?" Ron asked again as Tom the Innkeeper took away the sodden plate. Harry hesitated, unknowing of whether he should tell Ron about giving the money to the twins or not.  
  
"Uh," Harry mumbled, "yeah, I put the Triwizard money in the vault, too." It felt awful lying to his best friend, but he wanted to find out what was going on with the twins first.  
  
Ron poked at his eggs one last time before announcing that he was full and wanted to walk around Diagon Alley a bit. Harry followed Ron out the back door and eventually through the brick wall archway.  
  
Harry was utterly surprised to see swarms of people filling the alley. Only an hour before it had been nearly empty. They were congregating mainly in and around Madam Malkin's vacant store.  
  
"What's his problem?" Ron said, pointing to the edge of the crowd. Harry watched as a white-faced man pushed his way out of the shop, screaming quite loudly and knocking over a couple of curious children. The large group was murmuring apprehensively. A witch apperated right next to a very surprised Harry and Ron, and she looked intently into the crowd.  
  
"Paula! Over here!" A young man right outside the door waved to the witch next to us. She jogged over to meet him. "Come and see this…" the wizard led her into the door. After only a few minutes, the size of the crowd tripled and it spilled out of the shop and into the street. Harry and Ron just watched, wondering what in the world was going on. Harry was a little afraid, thinking about the horrified look on the screaming man's face.  
  
"Come on." Ron said, walking toward the crowd, "I'm sick of watching this… let's go see what's up!"  
  
Harry followed Ron into the crowd, pushing his way past everybody and into the shop. A strange green glow illuminated the entire room, including everyone's faces. Harry couldn't see what it was that they were all looking at, but it seemed to be located on the far wall. Harry listened to the nervous whispers and mumbles as he pushed toward the back of the shop.  
  
"… never seen fire like that!"  
  
"… I'm sending an owl to my brother, this is weird…"  
  
"… just don't touch it…"  
  
Harry and Ron finally reached the source of everyone's attention. The back wall of the store displayed a brilliant fireplace, larger than even the ones at Hogwarts. The spectacular thing was not the fireplace, though. Inside of it, a green fire burned, but there was no wood at all, the bottoms of the flames hung about 6 inches above the ground. The odd thing about the fire was that it seemed more liquid than flame, or something like fire being shown in slow motion. Harry couldn't tell why, but the undulating green fire made him feel unnaturally cold.  
  
"Oh my… Harry, do you see this?" Ron poked at Harry's shoulder, still staring into the liquid fire.  
  
"Yeah. But, what is it? Haven't you seen anything like this before?" Harry thought this might have been one of those things that are familiar to someone who had grown up in a wizarding family.  
  
"No," Ron shook his head, "never seen it or heard of it. Ooof!" Ron stumbled as someone pushed their way between him and Harry.  
  
"Out of the way, Minister of Magic coming through!" Cornelius Fudge stepped in front of Harry and looked at the fire. A young witch with a notepad and quill followed him, and stopped next to Harry, scribbling something down.  
  
"See, Minister," she said, "I told you it was odd."  
  
"Yes," he replied, "good thing you told me about this," Fudge turned to face her. "We need to get everybody out of here." Fudge suddenly noticed Harry standing next to the witch with the notepad.  
  
"Harry Potter!" Fudge exclaimed with surprise and nervousness, "What are you doing here?"  
  
Before Harry could say anything, the green flames erupted into a larger fire, a fire that looked more like a normal fire.  
  
"[I]Harry Potter[/I]" a voice hissed from the smoke and flames. Everybody in the store became deathly quiet, and stared into the fire. A face began to form in the fireplace, something that was a lot more typical in the wizarding world, since they were used as something like a telephone.  
  
All of a sudden, Harry's forehead began to burn madly. He placed a hand over his scar, and groaned with pain. Nobody noticed. Everybody was watching the fireplace in terror. Harry opened his eyes and saw a green serpentine face wreathed in smoke.  
  
"Voldemort," he whispered. The face nodded. The girl next to him dropped her notepad and gasped. A handful of people screamed and ran out of the crowd, while everyone else watched in horrified curiosity.  
  
"Harry Potter, I have been waiting for you. I knew you were too nosy to let such a strange phenomenon pass you by."  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked boldly, stepping forward.  
  
"No!" Cornelius Fudge held out an arm and pushed Harry back. Fudge turned to the face, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. "I'll handle this!" The minister pulled out his wand and pointed it into the green fire. He yelled a spell that Harry didn't know, and a white beam shot out of the wand and sailed between Voldemort's eyes. The spell was ineffective somehow.  
  
Voldemort laughed shrilly. "You fool. Did you honestly think that would work?" Fudge stepped away from the fireplace, his hands shaking at his sides.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked again.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you, Harry, and to anyone brave enough to not run away." The crowd of remaining people looked at each other nervously, but none of them left.  
  
"I have had a lot of time to think over the past few months," Voldemort hissed, "and if there is one thing I pride myself in, it is getting things done. Now, there has been something on my agenda for the past 15 years that I just haven't been able to accomplish on my own. That's another thing about me, I know when to ask for help. Harry, I need you to be dead."  
  
Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, some staring at Harry with fear, some glaring at Voldemort's evil face.  
  
"You can't kill me," Harry said in a voice that was a lot braver than he imagined it could be.  
  
"Maybe not," answered Voldemort, "but they can." Voldemort's smoky gaze left Harry's face and glided over the crowd.  
  
"We would never do that!" Ron blurted out loudly. The group of witches and wizards shook their heads nervously at first, then more confidently as people spoke out.  
  
"Never!"  
  
"We're not on You-Know-Who's side!"  
  
"You can't make us kill anyone!"  
  
Voldemort's thin lips turned up into a terrifying smirk. "Do you know what I have?" He said quietly. The crowd became silent again. "I have all of your gold and silver." Voldemort paused as a few whispered angrily. "I have your money, but I'm prepared to negotiate."  
  
"Negotiate?!" Cornelius Fudge mustered up the courage to speak again. "You're going about it backwards! [I]We're[/I] supposed to give [I]you[/I] money for something you've taken. How can we do any such thing when you have all the money!?"  
  
"I suggest you think before speaking next time, Fudge." Voldemort glared at the minister. "I'm prepared to give one million galleons to everyone in exchange for Harry Potter's lifeless body."  
  
A cold silence settled over the shop as Voldemort continued very slowly. "One million galleons to every witch and wizard over 16 years of age in addition to the amount lost in individual bank vaults."  
  
Ron was shaking with fury. "One million galleons isn't worth it!" he shouted.  
  
"We will see…" Voldemort's face swirled grotesquely out of sight, leaving the fireplace void of strange fire or light and plunging the room into pitch darkness. 


	4. The First Hours

Chapter 5  
  
The sound of shuffling footsteps and shallow breathing echoed in Madam Malkin's empty shop as everyone quickly backed away from the vacant fireplace. Harry didn't move; he stood and stared into the fireplace, as if expecting to wake up from a nightmare, or waiting for someone to laugh and say, 'wasn't that a great joke?' As the people drained from the shop, whispering animatedly to the other witches and wizards standing outside, Ron approached Harry and stood next to him.  
  
"Did that really happen?" Harry asked. Ron nodded and grasped Harry's upper arm, trying to steer him away from the fireplace. Cornelius Fudge was the last one to leave the room besides Harry and Ron. Harry could hear Fudge shouting over the crowd: "Stay calm! Everyone stay calm!"  
  
Harry began to walk out into the crowd ahead of Ron, but Ron stopped him. "Harry! We've got to talk. Just stay in here for a minute, alright?" Harry glanced suspiciously at the fireplace, then nodded. Ron shut the door and began to pace nervously. Harry was still too shocked to begin any sort of conversation.  
  
"It was him…" Ron said, "You-Know-Who stole all the gold and he's going to... Harry, what are we going to do?" An odd choking sensation rose to Harry's throat.  
  
"I don't know, Ron… I won't be able to go anywhere anymore. This is awful!"  
  
"No, no, it's okay, Harry!" Ron said, "You heard what everyone was saying just now, no one is going to kill you. You're the Boy Who Lived!"  
  
"I'll be the Boy Who Died if there's that big of a price on my head."  
  
Ron stopped pacing, and stared at his friend. "Don't say that, Harry. You're not going to die." Harry saw the determination in Ron's eyes, and felt a little bit better.  
  
Harry sighed and said, "Well, we're going to have to tell Hermione and Sirius. Come on, I brought Hedwig with me, but she's still delivering a note to Sirius. We'll have to use one of the free owls from the Leaky Cauldron." Harry walked toward the exit.  
  
"No!" Ron blocked the door from Harry. "Let me get the owl, it'll be a lot safer for you if you just stay put. I'll be back in a few minutes." Ron said this all very quickly and then ran out the door. To make sure that nobody could look in the windows and see him, Harry ducked into a dark corner and sat on the dusty ground. Although he was pretty sure no one would kill him just then, he wanted to be safe.  
  
As he sat, Harry heard a muffled conversation, taking place in the shop on the other side of the wall. Trying to remember which shop was next door to Madam Malkin's, Harry pressed an ear to the cold wall. Two men were conversing.  
  
"… unbelievable, I tell you. And I saw it with my own two eyes."  
  
"So, are you sure that's what he said… a million galleons to whoever kills him first?"  
  
"No you've got it wrong! It's a million to EVERYBODY even if just one person kills him."  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"That means… if one person does all the work, then I'll get all my money back."  
  
"All your gold back, plus a hefty sum more."  
  
"Hey, then I won't even have to do anything wrong to get it…"  
  
The door to the robe shop slammed shut and Harry gasped, standing up quickly. "It's okay, Harry. Just me." Ron came in with a medium-sized, brown, barn owl on his arm and his other arm full of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. The barn owl flew off Ron's arm and onto the windowsill while Ron spread a piece of parchment on the floor.  
  
"Okay," said Harry. "Here I go…" and with that he wrote two very hasty but urgent letters for Sirius and Hermione. "This owl should be fine," Harry said, tying both notes to the owl's claw. "He might be slower than Hedwig, but that doesn't really matter… as long as they find out from me before anyone else."  
  
Ron opened the door and let the barn owl soar into the sky. "It's really going to be okay, Harry," Ron said, coming back inside. "I was listening to people on the street, and they've all been saying how they'll never kill anyone for money, no matter how much money it is." Harry decided not to tell Ron about the conversation he had heard on the other side of the wall. It was too strange to think about or talk about being murdered… 'Although,' Harry wondered, 'I guess I wouldn't HAVE to be murdered… I could just die by accident…'  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron must have noticed the horrified look on Harry's face.  
  
Harry let out a strained laugh, "What's wrong? Ron, what do you think is wrong!? I'm going to die and everyone is going to get rich because of it! It doesn't matter who does it to me as long as somehow I'm dead…"  
  
"But Harry," Ron said desperately, "I heard everyone myself! They're going to protect you! Don't worry, Sirius is on his way, too just to make sure." Ron took a deep breath, and continued more slowly. "Listen, there may be some bad people out there, but there are enough good people to keep you from the ones who are out to get you."  
  
Harry looked out the dusty window behind Ron's head, where a crowd was talking and pointing into Madam Malkin's shop where Harry stood. He shook his head.  
  
"Are there really enough, Ron?" 


	5. Leaving the Shop

Chapter 5b  
  
Harry and Ron spent most of the day in Madam Malkin's empty robe shop. Ron was overcome with severe boredom, and kept trying to pull Harry out the door and into the growing crowds. Harry resisted, claiming that there was nothing to do in the alley anyway so why bother leaving?  
  
"Harry, there is NOTHING to be scared of!" Ron said, exasperatedly. "There are loads of Ministry of Magic officials all over the place. No one will do anything to you."  
  
"I'm not scared," Harry said, crossing his arms and turning away from Ron. "I'm just being careful. You're not the one who's worth billions of galleons dead."  
  
"Fine," Ron said, heading for the door. "I'll just go back to the hotel and get something to eat—and I'm not bringing anything back for you."  
  
Harry's stomach rumbled loudly. It had been hours since their breakfast together. Ron pushed open the door, letting in a bright ray of afternoon sunshine.  
  
"Wait!" Harry said. Ron, with the smallest of smirks on his face, turned around. Harry pocketed the quill and inkbottle from earlier, and followed Ron out the door. Ron grinned triumphantly with his hands on his hips, waiting for Harry to follow him out into the middle of the street.  
  
Harry shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he stepped into Diagon Alley. He felt very exposed in the center of the road. Ron nonchalantly strode toward the Leaky Cauldron, either ignoring or not noticing the abnormal silence that answered Harry's sudden presence. Harry kept a step and a half behind his friend, his eyes cast down to his feet… but he could still feel the stares pressing in on him.  
  
Ever since he had entered the wizarding world, Harry was very famous, and over the years he'd gotten used to stares and excited whispers. But the whispers that followed him that day were tenser. Harry also realized that Ron was right, and none of them seemed to be plotting his murder; actually, they all looked like they were keeping an eye out for anyone who might be dangerous. One particularly large wizard began to walk next to Harry and Ron, and asked them if they were okay.  
  
"Yeah, we're fine," Harry said, eying the man's bulging biceps.  
  
"If you want me to," the man continued, "I can stick around and make sure nothing bad happens." Ron slowed his pace, to listen to the conversation. The man continued, "I used to be a body-guard for the Twisted Sisters, I know what I'm doing." The man's kind eyes reminded Harry of Hagrid; a scary body but a warm heart.  
  
"No thanks," Ron said, and pulled Harry away from the man, and they kept walking. "What a loony," Ron whispered under his breath. Harry looked back at the muscular man, half wishing Ron hadn't spoken so soon, especially when he saw a pair of particularly cold eyes staring straight at him out of the crowd… 


	6. Out with Ron

Chapter 6  
  
"Hey, Ron!" Harry called, trying to sound casual. Ron turned around, rolling his eyes more than Harry had thought possible of a human.  
  
"Harry, do you honestly want that bodyguard following you everywhere you go—"  
  
"Shut up!" Harry hissed. When Ron was close enough, Harry muttered, "Look in the crowd, next to that old hag…" He secretly pointed to his right.  
  
A pair of silvery gray eyes that Harry knew all too well was staring at the two of them. The boy attached to those eyes laughed maliciously and stepped out of the group of people, towards Harry and Ron.  
  
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to finally come out of the robe shop."  
  
"Beat it, Malfoy," Ron growled, stepping between Harry and Draco. Although he knew Ron was just trying to help, Harry wasn't sure if confronting Draco Malfoy was a particularly wise thing to do. True, Ron was taller and less lanky than the previous year, but Malfoy had obviously taken puberty very seriously. He was far from scrawny, and, by the size of his muscles, looked like he had practiced Quidditch all summer long.  
  
"Hey, Weasel," Malfoy spat, "I heard your dad was fired. Too bad. My dad took over his department… I guess they only kept the best half of workers at the ministry."  
  
Ron swelled with anger. Malfoy, noticing that he had touched a major nerve, went on. "It's not that your dad isn't a hard worker, Weasley, he's just too stupid to run a department of his own." It was Harry's turn to step in… he pulled an irate Ron back. Harry was fairly certain that Malfoy wouldn't start throwing punches in the middle of a crowded street, but he wasn't so sure about Ron.  
  
"Don't you have somewhere to be, Malfoy?" Harry asked.  
  
Malfoy smirked. "You're right, I have to go and figure out where I'm going to spend my million galleons."  
  
"What are you talking about? I'm still alive, you idiot," Harry laughed. "And besides, you're not even 16 yet, so you won't get anything."  
  
"I only have two and a half more weeks until I'm 16. Nobody will kill you before then…" Malfoy narrowed his eyes, "but I know you'll be dead before Christmas holidays."  
  
"You're not going to kill him," Ron interjected angrily.  
  
Malfoy was silent for a moment.  
  
"I won't have to."  
  
"Then how can you be so sure he'll die?" Ron said. "Perhaps everyone is thinking that someone else will do it and it'll never happen. There! Problem solved!" Ron clenched his jaw. "Come on Harry, I'm leaving." Ron began to walk away quickly. Harry followed him, looking back at Malfoy.  
  
"Weasley, you live too sheltered a life to be allowed out in public," Malfoy called after him. "Once you're out in the real world, you'll see that people are not all good. You're going to find out sooner than you think!" And with that, Malfoy turned and walked the opposite direction.  
  
Ron didn't talk for a long time. They reached muggle London through the Leaky Cauldron, but Ron was so angry, he took several wrong turns.  
  
Harry didn't like the silence as they walked; it gave him too much time to think—something he had managed to avoid since Voldemort had appeared. Malfoy's last words echoed in Harry's head along with Voldemort's, creating something like a deep, hissing chant that wouldn't go away.  
  
Each step Harry took seemed to make him more dizzy. He was worth more dead than alive. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He didn't feel so hungry anymore… in fact, he felt like throwing up. He took two deep breaths, convincing himself not to do anything sickly until he reached the hotel room. His face seemed hollow—void of color or emotion. He just followed Ron, taking deep breaths and trying to blink away the dizziness from his eyes.  
  
He was so preoccupied with everything, Harry didn't even notice walking into the hotel. It wasn't until Ron complained about the long wait for the elevator that Harry broke out of his trance.  
  
"… stupid lifts take so long. How muggles stand it I don't know…"  
  
There was a 'ding' and the doors slid open. Ron stepped inside and pressed the button for floor 3. His mood changed dramatically; he suddenly seemed rather proud of himself. "My dad taught me how to work it. You should have seen him, Harry, he pushed that red button there when my mum was in with him. It stopped the whole thing! Mum was upset I think, but she came around and started talking again after an hour or so… Dad said she hyperventilated a bit."  
  
The elevator slowed to a halt, giving Harry a terrible sensation in his stomach. It was all he could do to keep what was left of his breakfast down.  
  
Ron must have finally noticed the strange green hue of Harry's face, because his eyes got very wide and he rushed to the room.  
  
"Bathroom's there, Harry," Ron said, pointing to the right after he unlocked the room's door. Harry ran in and shut the door behind him.  
  
After several awkward minutes, Harry emerged looking no less green, but feeling much better.  
  
"Where is everyone?" Harry asked.  
  
"I dunno," Ron said, shrugging. "They just come and go. Dad's probably found a new plug somewhere."  
  
Harry got a chance to look around the room. It was fairly small, with two beds big enough for two people each. The wallpaper was bright blue, and an old ceiling fan wobbled back and forth as it spun.  
  
"We've got two rooms," Ron explained, "Mum, Dad, and Ginny are next door. Fred and George sleep in that bed," Ron pointed to the one furthest from the door, "and I sleep in this one… with Percy." A look of utter disgust flowed over Ron's face as he sat down on the maroon comforter.  
  
"Is Percy still working at the ministry?" Harry asked, setting himself down in one of the chairs next to the bed. Ron shook his head.  
  
"No, Percy wasn't a senior member or anything… he was still really new, and worthless." Ron's voice began to drip with sarcasm. "I don't know [I]what[/I] the hell we're going to do without regulated cauldron thickness at a time like this." He rolled his eyes.  
  
Harry smiled weakly, still feeling pretty nauseated. The color was still drained from his face, but he was grateful to Ron for keeping his mind off of everything.  
  
The room fell silent as they tried to think of something to talk about. Harry stared down at his hands, examining his fingernails, which had turned an odd shade of blue. He glanced up at Ron for half a second. Harry noticed that Ron was staring right at his face in a curious sort of way, squinting a little bit with a furrowed brow, as if he was looking at something very small.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. He had become quite sick of people staring at him, and didn't want his best friend to start.  
  
"What's that under your eye?" Ron asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It looks like a bruise or something." Ron leaned closer to Harry to get a better look.  
  
It was a couple of seconds before Harry suddenly realized what Ron was talking about. Harry's hand shot up to his eye, trying to hide it as he spoke.  
  
"Oh, this…" Harry said, searching for something to say. "Uh, yeah, I got it a few days ago."  
  
"How?"  
  
Harry really didn't want to tell Ron what happened. He didn't want to tell anyone. He thought up a quick story.  
  
"Um, well… you know Dudley. He was being a moron so I called him elephant man or something, I don't really remember what, and he swung at me. I don't think he really meant to hit me so hard, because he looked really surprised."  
  
Ron shook his head. "That idiot. He's got something coming to him. I'll send him more of Fred's and George's Ton-Tongue Toffee, or something worse… that'll teach him."  
  
'Yeah, right,' Harry thought. Ton-Tongue Toffee… that reminded him…  
  
"Hey Ron, are the twins still making joke stuff?" Harry's mind returned to the Triwizard money he had given the twins.  
  
"No way… we barely have enough money to buy food." Ron turned suddenly red. "Oh, and the twins told us what you gave them at the end of last year. I know you didn't put all your gold in the bank. They gave everything you gave them to the family, but you really didn't have to." It was Ron's turn to become uncomfortable.  
  
Harry felt much better all of a sudden, knowing that he wouldn't have to lie about that gold anymore.  
  
"It's okay Ron, really."  
  
"But now I feel REALLY bad because you don't have any money, and we've spent all the gold." Ron looked genuinely upset, but Harry began to get suspicious.  
  
"All of it?! You spent it all?" Harry couldn't believe that they could spend all the thousands of galleons in just a couple months.  
  
"Well yeah, Harry. I mean, feeding seven people for two months, and there were bills to pay. Well, 400 galleons just doesn't last that long."  
  
400 galleons? Harry couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"How much did you say?"  
  
"400 galleons, maybe a little bit more, I'm not sure."  
  
Harry could tell that Ron wasn't lying—but that meant the twins were cheating gold from their own family. 'They must have put some in the bank right after they got it,' Harry thought to himself. 'There must be some reason…' He searched desperately for a logical explanation, but in the middle of his thoughts, an echo of Malfoy's taunting surfaced.  
  
"…in the real world, people are not all good…" 


	7. The Visit

Harry and Ron spent the next hour or so ordering room service, which was basically free except for tips. Harry had a difficult time hiding his smile when Ron tried to pay a tip with a black extension cord.  
  
"I don't understand," Ron said, closing the door. "I thought plugs were valuable, and that cord had TWO!"  
  
Harry didn't feel very hungry, so Ron ate half of his sandwich. Before long, Ginny showed up, quite surprised to see Harry there.  
  
"Hey Ron I was just—Oh! Harry!" She said, dropping the bag she was holding. She picked it up embarrassedly, running her fingers through her hair. Harry noticed that she had let it grow long that summer, and it didn't look that bad. His attention, though, shifted quickly from her hair as she walked awkwardly over to Ron, staring at Harry the whole time as if he were a bomb. He heard her whisper, "Ron, do you think it's safe to let Harry in here?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny!" Ron said loudly. Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"It's just that, well, I heard these two men talking when I was in Diagon Alley… Surely you know about The Visit?"  
  
"The Visit?" Ron shot a curious glance over to Harry.  
  
"Yeah! You-Know-Who appeared in a fireplace this afternoon in Diagon Alley and said that he would pay back all the witches and wizards—"  
  
"Ginny!" Ron interrupted. "We know about what You-Know-Who offered, if that's what you mean. We were there when he came."  
  
Ginny bit her lower lip pensively. "Well, there's a rumor going around that there's a time limit on the 'offer'… 6 months. If it doesn't happen before then, the deal is off."  
  
Ron looked at Harry, then back at Ginny. "Well, then why is it called The Visit?"  
  
"Because…" Ginny hesitated. "Because if Harry… if it happens… You-Know-Who will have to actually come and get his… body. He'll have to come: The Visit." Ginny became exceedingly uncomfortable as she finished the explanation.  
  
"So The Visit's basically any time between now and February when You-Know- Who's going to come and snatch Harry's dead body?" Ginny nodded, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Ginny, don't worry about it. It's not going to happen."  
  
Ginny obviously didn't believe her older brother, and decided it was time to leave that conversation. She said goodbye and walked to her room next door.  
  
"Ron," Harry said, "how can you be so sure it's not going to happen? I mean, there are lots of people out there who wouldn't mind jabbing me several times with something sharp and pointy…"  
  
"Just think," Ron said, "all you have to do is get through these next couple weeks. Once you get to Hogwarts, you'll be fine!"  
  
"But how do you know?"  
  
"Because Dumbledore won't let anything happen, Harry." Ron finished his last bite of sandwich and tossed his napkin in the wastebasket like a muggle basketball player.  
  
"I might have believed that if you said it when I was twelve, Ron," Harry said with a sigh. "But I can't anymore. Look, remember Shrieking Shack thing when we were third years? Of course you do. Dumbledore didn't know anything of it! I almost got my face sucked off by a dementor! And don't even get me started on the portkey thing… Dumbledore was WATCHING for chrissakes!" Harry exhaled loudly. "I can't depend on the mere presence of Dumbledore anymore…" He looked at Ron with sad eyes. "… I just can't."  
  
Ron desperately searched for something to say. "Harry, I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
"Thanks Ron," Harry said with a small, forced laugh, "but I don't think a murderer will change his mind just because you've taken a pledge to protect me. Come on, you can't spend six months by my side, you have a life."  
  
The room became very quiet. Ron looked at Harry with the most serious of looks on his face.  
  
"Harry, if standing by your side would in any way stop someone from killing you, I would gladly give up six months of my life." A smile began to form on the sides of Ron's mouth. "Besides, I've invested too much in you. If you died, I'd never find another brainless git to pour my feelings into."  
  
Harry smiled broadly for the first time in what seemed like ages.  
  
"Brainless, huh?" Harry grabbed the closest thing within reach, a shoe, and tossed it at Ron's face.  
  
"Hey!" Ron said, dodging just in time, letting the shoe thump against the wall. Ron grabbed the closest thing on the floor, wound up like a pitcher, and then made a face as if he smelled something terrible. "Yuck!" He looked at what he was holding.  
  
"EW!" He said, tossing it toward the door, away from both of them. Harry doubled up in laughter, noticing that the item was a pair of Percy's dirty underwear.  
  
"My hands will never be clean again!" Ron lamented.  
  
Just then the door opened.  
  
"What's going on?" Ginny stepped in the room. "What are you guys throwing against the wall?" Her eyes traveled to the ground.  
  
"Ick," she said, stepping backwards. "Never mind. I don't want to know." She began to close the door.  
  
"Hey Ginny, wait!" Harry said. She peeked her head back inside the room.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Um," Harry hated bringing this back up again. "Where did you hear the rumor about the six month thing? Does everyone know about it?"  
  
Ginny stepped into the room and closed the door. She nodded her head slowly.  
  
"How did the news spread so quickly?"  
  
Ginny shifted her weight. "Well… how long has it been since you've been in the Alley?"  
  
"A few hours I guess," Ron said. "Why?"  
  
"I think there's something you two need to see, then," she said, and beckoned them to follow her.  
  
She led them downstairs and through the muggle streets without saying a word, no matter how many questions Ron and Harry asked.  
  
"Come on, Gin! Just tell us!" Ron said as they reached the brick wall behind The Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"I can't…" Ginny said. "I can't just explain something like this." She prodded the brick, and the gateway opened. The three of them stepped through the threshold together. The streets were downright crowded with people. Luckily, almost nobody could see Harry in the swarm of people.  
  
Ginny led them to the center of Diagon Alley, right in front of Gringotts Bank.  
  
A sort of platform had been erected, hovering about 4 feet above of the cobblestone street. It was about 7 feet by 4 feet, and atop it lay a green and silver casket. It was empty. Harry noticed a silver plaque mounted in front of the platform. He walked over to it with a growing ominous feeling with each step he took.  
  
"Harry Potter" The first line read.  
  
"Dies before the 28th of February"  
  
"Or the money is gone forever"  
  
"This casket is for him"  
  
"Good Luck, Harry"  
  
Harry just stared at the sliver plaque. A number of people had noticed him, and watched him for a reaction of come kind.  
  
"'Good Luck, Harry'?" He said to Ron, who had been reading over his shoulder. "He makes it sound like a game."  
  
"It's a game you had better win," Ron said, "because I don't think anyone would want to go in that casket, even if they were dead."  
  
Harry looked up at the casket again. Inside, at least four dozen snakes of different sizes and colors were writhing around, hissing. Ginny, who had been standing next to the two of them, made a small whimpering noise.  
  
"Don't worry Ginny," Ron said. "Harry's not going in there, ever."  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"Because he's got too many friends." Ron looked at Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe I won't stop a murderer if I'm alone, but I'm not going to be alone…"  
  
As the sun began to set over Diagon Alley, Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really hoped that Ron was right. 


	8. Fin Alley

Chapter 8  
  
"Come on, Harry," Ron beckoned as they walked away from the silver casket. "I just want to get away from that thing… it's spooky." Harry agreed wholeheartedly, and followed Ron into the huge crowd. They were heading back towards The Leaky Cauldron, as far as Harry could tell, and probably back to the hotel.  
  
The bustling movements of everyone made it very hot, especially in the condensed center of the crowd. 'Perhaps it just [I]seems[/I] like there's more people than earlier,' Harry thought, eying the scaffolding in the distance. 'Maybe they're all being pushed to this end of the Alley because of whatever is over there?' It looked like one of the stores was getting a facelift with a new coat of paint, although it was too far away for Harry to tell which store.  
  
The crowd made Harry's and Ron's progress very slow, but it wasn't until he was around so many people in Diagon Alley that Harry realized how badly the money shortage had hit the wizarding world. Bits and pieces of different conversations met his ears, and they all managed to center around money, or lack thereof.  
  
A young woman was conversing with her group of friends. "Bill and I were going to get married this summer, but my parents used Gringotts…"  
  
An older man with weary eyes told one of the shopkeepers: "Three of my four sons were fired from the Ministry of Magic. I can't support them [I]and[/I] my wife's brother!"  
  
Someone who reminded Harry of Malfoy lamented, "… can't get a new broomstick. My parents get me the newest model every year, but those stupid goblins… I sent them another howler today."  
  
Then, probably the most pitiful of all came from a little girl with her mother. "But Daddy promised he wouldn't work on my birthday…"  
  
Harry lapsed into deep thought. He wished that there was some other way to get their money back; other than dying. Everyone would be rich if he just sacrificed himself, but that would mean Voldemort wins. That would mean that everything Harry's scar represented was nothing. As much as he hated it sometimes, Harry was The Boy Who Lived, and that somehow brought hope to people, even after Voldemort returned. If he just lived through this, Harry realized, it would be like good prevailing ultimately over evil, because it wasn't just one good wizard versus one evil wizard. It would be good people banding together against evil people, because he wasn't going to be able to survive on his own. If Ron was right…  
  
"LOOK OUT!" A voice broke through the air.  
  
Before Harry knew what was happening, somebody slammed into his right side, sending him into the center of the street. Harry hit the ground, his elbow breaking the fall. He sat up quickly to see what was going on.  
  
The scaffolding towered in front of him and he noticed something accelerating towards the ground. It landed heavily exactly where Harry would have been, had he not been pushed out of the way. It was a full can of paint.  
  
Blue paint splattered everywhere, mostly on Harry. People started screaming, realizing what had almost happened. A swarm of hands reached out and helped Harry to his feet. He was surrounded by so many people, he couldn't see who it was that had saved him. He caught sight of Ron, who was standing in one place, his freckled face whiter than Harry had ever seen it.  
  
Wands began to swish here and there, everyone removing all the blue paint from each others' hair and clothes. Before he knew it, Harry had been cleaned up from head to toe. He managed to shake off the remaining few people, who were repeatedly asking if he was okay, and ran over to Ron.  
  
"Harry?" Ron was panicking so badly Harry could see him shaking. "Harry… I'm sorry… I didn't help you… I didn't think…"  
  
"Ron! Ron, calm down." Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm fine. It was just an accident, it wasn't your fault."  
  
"It wasn't an accident," someone said. A rush of relief coursed through Harry as he recognized the know-it-all tone.  
  
"Hermione!" He turned toward her voice.  
  
Harry could tell that she was very glad to see him alive, but she whispered, "Harry, we need to go somewhere else. It's not safe here." She looked over her shoulder, as if to make sure that nobody would follow them. If Harry hadn't been so shaken up from almost dying, he would have laughed at how much she sounded like a muggle secret agent.  
  
"Come on, both of you," she said. "I know a place where we can go."  
  
"Wait," Ron said, finally beginning to calm down. "My family's been staying at a hotel. We could just go there. It's in muggle London so we'll be safe there."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and, for a second, Harry thought she shot him a look of warning. But it must have been his leftover jitters, Harry decided, because she then said with a little smile, "No, you'll like this place better." She turned away from The Leaky Cauldron, which wasn't too far away from where they were, and started back towards the casket.  
  
Harry put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Hermione, no. I don't want to go back there." Discouraged that he was unable to keep the fear out of his voice, Harry shuffled his feet and said, "It's just… it's so crowded… if there's another way to get there…" Hermione reached to her shoulder where Harry's hand was resting. She took his hand into both of hers and held it for a moment.  
  
"It's okay, Harry." She squeezed his hand, then let it fall back to his side. Harry nodded, feeling a little stupid, but secretly glad that Hermione was sympathetic. She turned and headed towards a vacant store nearby. Harry, making sure that Ron was close by, followed her.  
  
They stepped inside the dark, empty shop.  
  
"Oh this is much better than a hotel room, Hermione," Ron said, eyeing a huge spider web in the corner.  
  
Hermione, though, ignored him and walked towards the door leading to the back room. She opened it, and let Harry and Ron in first.  
  
Harry had never been in the back room of a Diagon Alley store. Not that it was much different than the main section, or impressive in any way, but there was another back door, and a small window. Harry reached out to wipe the grime off the window as to see what was on the other side, but Hermione told him not to.  
  
"Why not?" Harry said, trying to see through the greenish dust that was mucking up the window. "What's back there?"  
  
"You'll see," Hermione said. "I just don't want to make it obvious that we were here."  
  
"Yeah," Ron whispered in his best impression of a ghostly voice. "Someone might be [I]following[/I] us." Hermione glared at him, and Ron stopped joking around, realizing that what he said had a very good chance of being true.  
  
Hermione opened the back door and stuck out her head. She looked to her left and right, then beckoned for Harry and Ron to follow her out.  
  
They stepped out into a very narrow alley, so narrow that two people couldn't walk comfortably side by side. There were countless doors, but they were all on one side. It was very long, as well. Unlike Diagon Alley, where the streets twist and turn, this alley was straight and Harry couldn't see a turn in either direction.  
  
Hermione thought for a moment, then started toward the right. Harry got behind her, and Ron filed in behind Harry.  
  
"Hermione, where are we?" Harry asked, eying the old bricks on either side of him.  
  
"Fin Alley," she answered. "I'm not exactly sure why it even exists, but it is very useful."  
  
"I've never even heard of Fin Alley!" Ron said.  
  
"So?" Harry said, wondering why Ron was so surprised. Harry didn't know about it either until then.  
  
"So! I live with Fred and George. They've never been back here, I'd bet."  
  
"How can you be sure?" Harry asked, stepping over a discarded cauldron.  
  
"Because whenever they find something interesting that I don't know about, they rub it in my face." Ron rolled his eyes. "I'd see them sniggering after coming back from a secret Hogsmeade run and they would just laugh or make up something stupid. I've never seen them act like that in Diagon Alley."  
  
Hermione said, "Well, the only people who know about Fin Alley are the people who work at the shops and the Ministry of Magic."  
  
"Why the Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm guessing that when people from the Department of Magical Objects and Retail come around to check on the stores, they come down Fin Alley because it's a lot easier to find a specific store." Hermione pointed up and to the right where a faded sign read: "Ollivander's Wand Shop." Harry hesitated as he passed the door, remembering the last time he was in that store. He got a sudden urge to go inside and talk to Mr. Ollivander and tell him everything that was bothering him, maybe even tell how he got his black eye.  
  
"Go on, Harry," Ron poked him in the back. "You're slower than a flobberworm."  
  
"Sorry," Harry said, shaking himself mentally. What was he thinking? He couldn't tell [I]anyone[/I] about his black eye. He kept behind Hermione, glancing up every now and then to read which store they were passing, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering too far into the past.  
  
"This is strange," Ron said. "All the doors are on one side, but I KNOW Ollivander's is across from the candy shop. Look!" Ron pointed at the candy shop sign.  
  
Hermione sighed, "Ron, of the three of us I'd expect that you'd be the one who is most used to magic, having been around it your whole life." Ron started to grumble an insult under his breath, but Hermione interrupted him. "Just be quiet, we're almost there, okay?"  
  
She began to look at every sign they passed, apparently looking for a specific door. She stopped in front of one and read the sign aloud: "'Excess Supplies.' This is the one." Hermione opened the wooden door and stepped inside. Harry followed her into the dark room, then waited for his eyes to adjust. A moment later, he found out that there was no need to wait, because a dim light filled the room, revealing a lot of cobwebs and broken magical items. He turned to his left, where the light was coming from, and saw Hermione crouched over a trapdoor.  
  
"Oh, this doesn't look familiar at all," Ron said, peering down into the hole.  
  
"Well, at least Fluffy isn't here," Harry shrugged.  
  
"Right," Hermione said. "But this time, I'm going first."  
  
"Wait, what's down there?" Ron asked, but before Hermione would answer him, she lowered herself slowly into the hole. It wasn't deep at all, probably a little less than 6 feet.  
  
"Come on, and don't forget to close the door, Ron!" she called up to them. Harry sat on the edge of the hole as Ron pulled the door shut. 'It isn't so bad when you can see where you're going,' Harry decided as he dropped down. The ceiling was only a couple inches higher than his head. Ron came down next, and groaned at the fact that he was at least an inch taller than the ceiling.  
  
As Ron complained about getting a sore neck, Harry took some time to check the place out. It was a square, stone hallway that disappeared into darkness. The only light came from the torch Hermione was pulling out of a holder on the wall.  
  
"Wow, Hermione," Harry said, ignoring the fact that he interrupted Ron's ranting. "How did you find out about this?"  
  
"Someone showed me," she smiled, pulling the trapdoor closed over her and Ron's heads.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Snuffles!" Ron shouted, and pointed toward the dark end of the hall. Harry turned quickly and smiled as the huge dog trotted their way.  
  
"Sirius, I'm glad you're here," Harry sighed. The dog sat down next to them, and the next moment, Harry's godfather was sitting with his back against the wall. Like Hermione, Sirius was glad to see Harry alive, but something in his eyes was very wrong. Harry wanted to ask what was the matter, but Hermione approached Sirius and offered a hand.  
  
"Here, let me help you up."  
  
Sirius smiled and said hoarsely, "No thanks. I think Ron's the only one other than me who really understands the lack of comfort in this place." Ron tried to nod in agreement, but ended up looking very awkward since his head was already bent forward to keep it from hitting the ceiling.  
  
"Go ahead and sit down," Sirius said. "I'm sure you've had a long day."  
  
"That's an understatement," Harry said as he plopped to the ground, unaware, until then, of how tired he really was.  
  
"They tried to do it today…" Hermione said to Sirius. His smile was gone. He closed his eyes and shook his head disbelievingly at the news. "… you were right about the scaffolding," Hermione continued.  
  
"What?" Ron asked, looking confusedly from Hermione to Sirius. "Who?"  
  
"A group of wizards," Sirius said rubbing his left temple. "But I thought they would've waited longer for their first attempt."  
  
Harry looked up at Ron. His friend was staring back at him, his face paling again.  
  
"… I knew that scaffolding was bad news…" Sirius was muttering to himself. He looked up at his godson, shaking his head again. "I don't know how you're going to live through this." 


	9. Through the Tunnels

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Sirius talked in the cave underneath the trapdoor for about an hour. Ron told Sirius about his family living at the hotel, and the awful money difficulties, Hermione explained to Ron and Harry about how she'd been in touch with some other muggle-born students from Hogwarts and that their families were okay financially (except that they couldn't exchange muggle money for wizard money).  
  
Meanwhile, Harry just listened, hoping that he wouldn't have to explain anything. Until then, he hadn't really realized how much he had been keeping from everyone; why he came early, his conversation with Mr. Ollivander, the twins and the money he had given them, and how frightened he really was about the entire situation. Unfortunately, Harry's fear began to increase the more he talked with Hermione and Sirius. Sirius had been close by when he had heard about Voldemort's appearance, and had immediately begun to gather information.  
  
"I followed around the most suspicious people," Sirius said. "But it was difficult because everybody became suspicious of everyone else."  
  
"It was like everybody didn't know which side they themselves were on," Hermione interjected. "You can imagine how hard it is to find a shady character when the shady character doesn't even know who he or she is."  
  
As Ron sat and tried to figure that out, Harry scratched the back of his neck. He'd never thought of that. The bad guys could be anyone from the poorest of the poor trying to get some money, or just some greedy group of people who wanted to be rich, or even a pack of do-gooders trying to make the wizarding world a better place.  
  
"Hermione arrived at Diagon Alley earlier this morning and has helped me track the most suspicious group of people," Sirius explained. Hermione, with a solemn look on her face, nodded.  
  
Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she stared at the ground. "You don't know how hard it is to hear people talk about killing your best friend," she whispered. "I offered to help them, I was pretending to be part of their group… it was the only way I would be able to save you."  
  
"Hermione has put herself into considerable danger," Sirius said. "Neither of us knew that the gang was going to attempt to kill you so soon. I was hoping that she would be able to be on the inside for a decent amount of time, in order to gain enough information to keep you safe until school starts." Sirius rubbed his chin, regret etched into his eyes. "Hermione is an enemy of the gang now, and they know it."  
  
Harry was filled with sudden and severe respect for Hermione. He stared at her, and she looked up from the ground, feeling his pressing gaze. He was about to voice his appreciation, when they all heard a muffled sound above them.  
  
Sirius took Hermione's wand from her pocket and whispered a spell. The torch extinguished smokelessly and they all disappeared into the darkness.  
  
They all listened carefully to the dull noises above them. It sounded like somebody was in Fin Alley, just outside the room with the trap door. In the darkness, every sound seemed to echo in the rhythm to Harry's beating heart. He shut his eyes for two seconds and then opened them again, but there was nothing to see.  
  
The voices were muffled. There was more than one person in the alley. A female voice got louder as she walked closer to the Excess Supplies room.  
  
"She's around here somewhere…"  
  
They heard the door open. A thin ribbon of light shone through one of the cracks in the trapdoor and between the four of them. Harry saw Hermione's eyes shadowed with fear in the dusty beam.  
  
"They've followed me!" Hermione mouthed to them frantically. Then, Harry heard a soft buzzing noise that he thought was coming from the witch above them, who had been muttering to herself, but then noticed that it seemed to originate from Hermione.  
  
"It's a tracking spell," Harry heard Sirius whisper to them almost inaudibly. "I don't know how to reverse it."  
  
Hermione placed both of her hands over her mouth, trying to suppress her gasp. She looked down at herself, then to Ron and Harry. "Don't let them catch me!" she whispered. Harry had never seen her more frightened.  
  
They heard the handle of the trapdoor being grasped.  
  
"Run!" Sirius yelled, and picked up Ron and Hermione from the ground. Harry stood up and faced the trapdoor, ready to defend his friends, but Sirius pushed them all away from it. Ron was first to disappear into the darkness, with Hermione behind him. Harry tried to keep an eye on her as they ran, but it was all he could do to keep himself from running into the walls. Sirius' footsteps were loudest as he followed them all.  
  
"She's down here!" Harry heard the witch say from the trapdoor, which was getting further and further away. "She's here with Potter!"  
  
Harry listened to the Ron's and Hermione's footfalls as the tunnel twisted blindly. He almost ran into Hermione, who was breathing quickly and fearfully. Harry couldn't see her, but he could hear her. He reached out to her shoulder, and she jerked.  
  
"It's okay, it's me!" Harry said.  
  
"Ron left me!" she sobbed. "He just left me!" Sirius came from behind, his wand producing a small bit of light. Harry saw the tunnel ahead and understood what Hermione was saying. The tunnel branched off into five different directions.  
  
"We need to split up!" Siruis said. Hermione shook her head quickly in protest. "We have to!" he said. He pointed to the rightmost tunnel, and nudged Hermione in that direction. She stood there for a moment then stumbled away.  
  
Sirius turned to Harry. "You go that way, and don't look back!" Sirius pushed him towards the middle tunnel.  
  
"But Hermione…" Harry sputtered and looked into the right tunnel.  
  
"Harry, listen to me," Sirius said, with a hand on Harry's shoulder. "If you go with her, they'll find you too." Harry just stared at Sirius. The footsteps of the gang were growing louder.  
  
"We don't have time to argue, just do what I say! They won't kill Hermione I promise! But if they capture you…" Sirius gave Harry another push. "Just go!"  
  
Harry watched Sirius as he ran into the second to left tunnel. Just before he was out of sight, he transformed into a dog and disappeared. Harry sprinted down the middle tunnel, his lungs burning. A stitch formed in his right side.  
  
He stopped. His head was swimming, and he wasn't sure what to think. He reached out his hand and touched the cool wall. Harry wiped the sweat out of his eyes, and turned around, following the wall back to the junction.  
  
He got back to the place with five tunnels. A light was coming toward him from the tunnel where the trapdoor was. He made a decision, and went down Hermione's tunnel. Ignoring Sirius' warnings, he went. He couldn't just leave Hermione alone like that.  
  
If only he knew how ill-fated his decision was… 


	10. Sacrifice

Chapter 10  
  
"Hermione!" Harry called out, his voice echoing blindly ahead of him. "Hermione it's me!" Fully aware of the footfalls and arguing sounds of the people behind him, Harry willed himself to run faster. Holding his right hand out, following the wall, he made his way further into the maze of tunnels, cold air blowing out towards him.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry stopped. He heard something that at first sounded like a high-pitched ring inside of his head, as if he'd just listened to loud music. The single pitched ringing became broader, and Harry could tell it wasn't coming from inside of his head, but somewhere in front of him. He continued on a bit slower, attempting to be more cautious as he got closer to the noise.  
  
Further down the tunnel he thought he saw an outline of a person ahead of him, but told himself that it was his eyes playing tricks because there wasn't any light down there. He turned to the voices behind him, and saw that there was light coming from their wands, bright enough to penetrate through the tunnel to Harry. Surely they could see him, so he ran.  
  
The ringing he had almost forgotten about grew louder and higher. He covered his ears and tried to run at the same time, a combination of things that are really only successful when done separately.  
  
"Harry!" The figure in front of him yelled. The noise turned painful as he approached Hermione. Her fingers were shoved in her ears and she was backed against a wall. "Harry what are you doing!?" She called over the noise. Harry tried to tell her that he couldn't just leave her alone, but couldn't even hear his own voice. Hermione mouthed to him that the ringing was coming from her. Their pursuers had changed the tracking noise.  
  
Harry motioned for Hermoine to follow him, and they raced down the tunnel together. They were faster than their followers, and the further Hermione was from them, the less pronounced the noise became.  
  
"The spell is wearing off," Hermione panted as they ran. They took their fingers from their ears and could hear the angry voices behind them.  
  
"I told you," one of them said, "that we couldn't trust her. Now you've gone and messed up the tracking spell!"  
  
"It wasn't my fault," the female voice answered indignantly. "Who cares? We'll get Potter even faster now."  
  
Harry, trying to hear the conversation of theirs over his own footfalls, made a wrong step and was on the ground before he could stop himself. Hermione reached town to pull him to his feet, but something was wrong. His left foot wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. It felt like rubber from his ankle to his knee and, Harry realized in a panic, like nothing was there beneath his ankle.  
  
"My foot's broken!" he said, a golf ball sized lump of dread in his throat.  
  
"Come on! They're getting closer!" Hermione tugged on his arm, but he couldn't get up. "At least try! You're not trying!" Hermione pulled with all her might, but Harry was paralyzed. She reached to his ankle, thinking that it was probably twisted or sprained at the worst.  
  
She touched it very softly, feeling that it wasn't out of place. She pressed harder.  
  
"Ouch!" Harry yelled, to the surprise of Hermione, the group of people behind them, and himself. The tunnel was quiet as his echo of pain rippled far into the distance.  
  
He didn't move as the group sprinted towards them.  
  
"Go, Hermione," he said, pushing her away. She stumbled from her crouched position and fell.  
  
"No." Her determined face began to grow brighter as the wands approached  
  
"I don't." Harry hesitated as the footsteps stopped being echoes and became as clear as his own voice. "I don't want you to see this," he said in one breath.  
  
"No you don't," a panting voice said to Hermione. It was one of the faster pursuers, standing above them. "But thanks anyway for leading us right to him."  
  
Hermione didn't say anything.  
  
The wizard turned and yelled, "I've got them! They're not going anywhere!"  
  
While his head was turned, Hermione whispered, "I'm so sorry."  
  
Hermione sat next to Harry, her quick, shallow breathing playing across his neck. He whispered that it was going to be okay, but his voice faltered mid-sentence as twinges of pain shot up his leg. He liked it better when his ankle felt like it wasn't there. The wizard standing over them was yelling over his shoulder.  
  
"Come on you guys, hurry up!"  
  
Harry listened for the others but he didn't hear a thing, save the very quiet humming emanating from Hermione, the remains of the tracking spell petering away. The wizard was growing angrier as each silent moment passed by.  
  
"Stop shitting around! I've got Potter so get over here!" His narrow face glowed in the light of his wand and Harry could see sweat glistening on his forehead. The silence was broken by soft footsteps. From the sound of it, two pairs of feet were headed towards them, accompanied by a throaty growl.  
  
This is it, Harry thought to himself. Voldemort really did find a way to kill me. Ron was wrong, there aren't enough good people in the world. I just hope they don't kill Hermione.  
  
With the wizard distracted by the noises from the tunnel, Harry whispered to Hermione. "Run. This is your chance, he won't leave me alone to follow you."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Yes you can!" he hissed. "Please!"  
  
"Harry, I-" Hermione stopped. She stared at something behind Harry's shoulder with her mouth still open. Harry turned and saw what she was looking at and his eyes widened.  
  
"No! Don't!" The wizard's cries echoed down the tunnel as a large, black dog attacked him. His head hit the concrete floor with a crack, and he was out of consciousness before anyone really realized what was happening.  
  
"Sirius!" Hermione cried. "You came!"  
  
Sirius transformed into himself, answered crossly, "Of course I did," and glared at Harry. "I told you not to come this way."  
  
Harry furrowed his eyebrows at his godfather. "I didn't know you were coming back-"  
  
"It doesn't matter!" Sirius reached down and grabbed Harry's shoulders. "When I tell you to do something, I mean it! I wasn't going to let anything happen to Hermione! I'm trying to keep you alive, Harry!" Sirius' hands let go of Harry's shoulders and wrapped him into an awkward hug. Sirius righted himself, and Harry thought he saw a tear glistening on Sirius' cheek.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled while Sirius turned away. The pain he felt in his chest was suddenly aching a lot more than his ankle was.  
  
"I should have told you I was going to follow Hermione," Sirius said, turning around again. His face broadened into a grin. "After the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, I should have known you wouldn't have left her alone."  
  
The wizard on the ground, whom everyone had forgotten for a moment, groaned deeply.  
  
Sirius healed Harry's broken bone with a few precise words and wand movements, and the three of them ran ahead.  
  
AN: Sorry for the long time between additions. *shrug * it happens. I also added more to my other stories, if it means anything ( 


	11. Harry's Mistake

It wasn't long before Sirius, Hermione, and Harry met up with Ron. He had gotten himself horribly lost in a particularly wet part of the tunnel system, resulting in many extra pounds of soiled clothing. Harry couldn't help but smile as Ron's squashy footsteps trailed his.  
  
"Are we almost there yet?" Ron complained. "My back hurts from leaning forward, and I think my toes are growing algae on them."  
  
"Where are we going, anyway?" Hermione asked Sirius, who was leading them with his bright wand.  
  
"Back to Fin Alley," he answered concisely.  
  
"But I thought we were going somewhere safe down here," Harry said, turning his attention from Ron's wet shoes. "Hermione said earlier that-"  
  
"Do you really think it's safe down here now?" Sirius asked. "Before that handful of idiots came down it was." They turned a corner, and Harry recognized the slightly wider tunnel as the one connected to the Excess Supplies room.  
  
"You can still stay at the hotel, Harry," Ron said. "My mum and dad won't mind-"  
  
"No," Sirius interrupted. "Anyone could figure out he's staying there. He needs to stay away from Diagon Alley, in a secret place." Harry waited for Sirius to say more, because it sounded like he wasn't quite finished with that thought, but his godfather remained silent as they approached the trapdoor.  
  
Sirius put away his wand, and cupped his hands together for Hermione to step into and climb out. Ron scrambled after her, followed by Harry and Sirius. Harry let the trapdoor slam shut, and he shoved half of a large, broken plant pot on top of it to hide it.  
  
"So where am I going?" Harry asked, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans. "I don't know of anywhere secret and far from Diagon Alley."  
  
"Let's get Ron and Hermione back first," Sirius answered, stepping out into the moonlit Fin Alley, "and then I'll get you settled."  
  
Sirius the dog stayed very close to Harry on the way to Ron's hotel, even after they had left The Leaky Cauldron and were traveling in the muggle world. Harry talked idly with Ron and Hermione, listening to them bicker a bit, but he was focused more on Sirius. His gaze would dart in and out of small crowds as if he was eying an invisible fish swimming among them. Harry tried to observe his surroundings as his godfather did, but he couldn't seem to absorb things as quickly as Sirius and the artificial streetlights made everything so eerily green that it was hard to concentrate.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry," Ron said, slapping his friend's shoulder. Harry jumped, not realizing that they had already reached the hotel.  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, and was about to say 'See you tomorrow,' but realized that might not be true. "Goodnight."  
  
The three of them were silent for the remaining walk back to The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione seemed rather edgy, and Harry couldn't blame her. He was tired and hungry and his leg muscles were killing him. His stomach churned hollowly and noisily. He gave Hermione half a smile when she glanced his way.  
  
"I'm hungry, too," she mouthed to him behind Sirius. They approached the pub and could smell the food from what seemed like a block away. When they entered, Harry was surprised at how different it had been from earlier that day. He must not have noticed how clean it was when they walked through the pub to take Ron to the hotel, but it had been swept and everything looked polished and bright (despite the low burning candles). Tom the innkeeper was bustling around serving and bussing tables. He was magiking a tower of dirty plates to the back when he nearly ran into Harry and Hermione.  
  
"So sorry there. oh. Harry." Tom's pile of plates wavered as he hesitantly greeted Harry near the front. Tom smiled meagerly after a few awkward moments. "You aren't, um, allowed having any pets in the rooms," Tom said. "Sorry."  
  
"Actually, I've had a change of plans," Harry said as casually as he could. "I'm staying at. my friend's house tonight." Harry gestured towards Hermione, whose eyes widened suddenly. Harry prodded her in the side and she nodded slightly.  
  
"Really?" Tom asked.  
  
"So, since I'm not going to be staying all the nights I paid for, could I please have my money back?" A shadow passed over Tom's face, and his eyes seemed to sink into his head for a brief second.  
  
"Of course," Ton answered, a forced smile quaking underneath his nose. With that, he disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Hermione gave Harry a hard slap on the arm.  
  
"What was that for?" Harry cried, stepping out of her reach.  
  
"Staying at my house?" she hissed loudly. "Are you [I]trying[/I] to get people to follow us?"  
  
"It was an excuse! I'm not really going to stay at your house," Harry explained.  
  
"Well *I'm staying at my house, something I don't particularly want to do if murderous people think that you're there with me!"  
  
"Oh." Harry shuffled his feet. He hadn't thought of that. He was about to tell Hermione this, when Tom reappeared with a small brown bag in his hand. He gave it wordlessly to Harry, who opened the bag when Tom turned his back, making sure it was in fact his gold.  
  
"You two stay down here," Harry said, pocketing the bag. "I'll go get my things." He headed toward the stairs, but Sirius was close at his heels.  
  
"Snuffles," Harry whispered, "you're not allowed." The black dog pointed his head towards the kitchen, where Tom was preoccupied with something or other. Harry sighed. "Okay, go ahead. Come on Hermione," he gestured for her to follow, and they made their way to his room.  
  
When the door was safely shut and bolted, Sirius transformed back into himself, and he looked quite angry. "What are we going to do now?" he ranted. "Hermione can't go home! Why did you say you were going to stay there?"  
  
"I don't know!" Harry yelled back, to his own surprise. "What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, you know, I'm going far away from Diagon Alley to a secret place.'" Harry's patience had suddenly melted away. How was he to know what to say? He wasn't especially used to having murderers at his heels.  
  
"You could've said you were going back to your muggle family or something like that!" Sirius growled. "Now we can't go to Hermione's house for fear that someone is following us!"  
  
"How do we even know that someone isn't following us already?" Harry spat back. "How were you planning on getting her home in the first place?"  
  
"If someone was following us, we would have dropped her off and led them away from her house. Now they'll think that the Harry Potter flying away from her house is a decoy."  
  
"Well sorry for not being able to read your mind," Harry said bitterly.  
  
"Enough!" Hermione yelled. "Both of you! You're acting like a couple of 4- year-olds." She stood between them, her hands on her hips, reminding Harry strongly of Mrs. Weasley. "Could've, would've, if, this, that. enough. It's done, Harry said something he didn't know he wasn't supposed to say, but we can't change it. We'll have to come up with a different plan."  
  
Sirius was about to talk when Hermione held up a hand. "No. Not yet. I'm hungry." She let her arms drop, unlocked the door, and went down the stairs.  
  
Harry stood across from Sirius for an uncomfortable moment, and then said softly, "You should probably stay up here. I'll bring something up." He closed the door behind him and headed after Hermione. 


	12. New Shoes

Harry and Hermione made their way down to the Tom's table, asking him for some sandwiches. He brought them out wordlessly and Harry paid for them with the money in his pocket. Hermione unwrapped hers and took a bite on the way back to the steps.  
  
"Hang on," Harry said, touching her arm and stepping away from a crowd of people. She followed him, her curious brown eyes searching him as she swallowed her food.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know I didn't mean to do that. right?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Making you unsafe, I-I mean. . ." He didn't understand why this was so difficult to say. He felt like he'd eaten a Ton Tongue Toffee, the way he was stammering. Either Hermione didn't notice or she ignored it as she let a miniscule smile touch her lips.  
  
"It's okay, really. I'd feel a lot safer somewhere hidden anyway." She sighed. "I was afraid that group of people might come after me for information about you. Anyway, Sirius' original plan didn't sound that great."  
  
Harry felt better, knowing that Hermione wasn't upset with him, but wished he could say the same about Sirius (Harry imagined he was still pacing bitterly in the room upstairs). He hoped that the easing of their hunger would soften nerves somewhat, at least until they were safe. The last thing he needed was for someone to be mad at him.  
  
Harry tried to linger in the main part of The Leaky Cauldron as long as possible to delay being with Sirius again, but Hermione urged him to follow her back up to his room.  
  
"Even after being in the gang for a day," Hermione said quietly in the stairwell, "I don't know who might be watching us now. People join almost hourly."  
  
Possessing the knowledge that the group of people plotting your murder is growing hourly doesn't do much for your confidence; Harry decided this as he made awkward eye contact with a man coming down the stairs. Opening the door for Hermione when they reached his room, Harry found himself looking over his shoulder as he closed it.  
  
Sirius ate his sandwich quickly and silently as Harry packed his things into the trunk. He shut Hedwig into her cage and handed it to Hermione, feeling Sirius' pressing gaze the entire time.  
  
"I'm ready," Harry announced, turning to Sirius. His godfather's stare faltered momentarily. "Where are we going?"  
  
"You'll see," Sirius said shortly, helping Harry load his trunk onto a wheeled cart. "Just follow me and you'll know what to do." Sirius sighed, and morphed into his dog form. Hermione shifted Hedwig's cage to her other hip and opened the door for Sirius and Harry.  
  
After making sure that Tom wasn't paying attention to the front doors, Sirius trotted down the stairs and to the door, waiting as Harry maneuvered his cart down the staircase. Wheeling the half-broken cart down the steps proved to be more difficult then Harry thought. He tried to hold the railing to keep his own balance, but needed both hands on the cart to keep it from flipping forward and down the stairs. He felt the right wheel snag on something so he grasped the cart tightly, trying to keep it upright as the left wheel progressed in front of the other.  
  
The cart and Harry almost took a fearful plunge down the steep stairs; Hermione gracelessly helped him keep balance with her free hand while the other wrapped around Hedwig's cage. Hedwig began to screech fearfully, attracting the attention of everyone in the pub. The crowd stopped talking and eating, a few witches whispered nervously to each other.  
  
Surrounded by odd, staring silence, Harry continued down the stairs. If it wasn't enough that everyone was watching his clumsy struggle, his trunk popped open somehow as he reached the bottom, spilling a few of his belongings. Everyone watched awkwardly, as if they were each waiting for another person to help Harry clean up the small mess.  
  
'Never mind,' Harry thought to himself sarcastically, gathering up his quills and parchment, tossing them carelessly into his open trunk. 'I don't need help anyway.'  
  
"All right there, Mr. Potter?" a haughty voice inquired. Harry looked up at the unsympathetic face of Cornelius Fudge.  
  
"Yeah," Harry mumbled. For a moment, he remained kneeled and didn't move, thinking that Fudge was going to reach down and pick up the broom clippers for him. Fudge just stood there and stared down at Harry, waiting for him to finish. Harry rolled his eyes, retrieving the clippers which were inches from Fudge's shiny new shoes.  
  
They were very nice shoes, Harry thought as he put the clippers back. He looked down to have another look. Very nice. 'What are they made out of?' he wondered to himself. The material was somehow the darkest of black and the oddest of yellows at the same time.  
  
"Do you like them?" Fudge asked, noting Harry's stare. "Brand new. Express owl from France got them here in two hours."  
  
Harry's heart began to beat quickly. He straightened up and swallowed dryly, knowing the importance of the question forming in his head. "How.." Harry said slowly and carefully. "How much did they cost?"  
  
Fudge's political, fake smile remained constant, but for a fleeting moment, something changed in his eyes that reminded Harry of Petunia when she used to tell him to not ask questions.  
  
"Oh, I don't remember," Fudge answered.  
  
"Really?" Harry said steadily. "Well, where did you get the money? Because unless you've captured Voldemort, there's nothing left to spend."  
  
A handful of people who were close enough to hear Harry fearfully whispered to each other.  
  
Fudge's smile grew wholly artificial as he said, "You-Know-Who, Harry, is on the verge of being captured. Surely you know that swarms of volunteers have joined the Ministry today to ensure your safety and the well-being of our continent." Harry eyed Fudge's shoes again.  
  
"It is proof of my faith in these volunteers," Fudge continued, "that I go on with my routine normally. I am showing my trust in them by using the money I know they will return to me."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
Harry felt someone tugging at his arm. Hermione was motioning to the door where Sirius stood. Harry turned and stared Fudge with abhorrence, and then closed his trunk and locked it.  
  
"Goodbye, Harry," Cornelius called after them. "And don't worry, everything is going to be fine." 


	13. The Flight and a Future Gryffindor

"Did you see his shoes?" Harry asked Hermione as they kicked off from the ground. Hermione ignored him, attempting to stay on her very old broom. It looked like a Pegasus-Twenty, an ancient model that was surpassed even by the school brooms at Hogwarts.  
  
"For the last time, Harry, yes!" she answered nervously, her handle giving an odd jolt.  
  
"Quiet, you two," Sirius said from in front of them. "Wait until we're away from muggles."  
  
The three of them drifted higher above moonlit London, each of them with a trunk or bag of some sort tied to their brooms. Hermione's temperamental broomstick refused to fly higher than sixty feet above the ground, which meant they had a hard time hiding from well-lit areas. The waning moon didn't help their progress, either. Its not-quite-full brightness illuminated them against the dark sky, making them take cover in the dark shadows of tall buildings.  
  
Once they were out of the downtown area, they slowed down a bit and began to talk, still watching for the muggles who stayed up past the late hour television shows.  
  
"You don't think he was lying about why he bought the shoes?" Harry asked. "I can't tell with him anymore."  
  
"I couldn't tell either," Hermione shrugged. "I mean, it makes sense that he would want to encourage the volunteers, but I don't think that's why he bought them." She stared down at a house with its lights on, but must not have seen anybody awake, Harry thought, because her starry eyes looked out to the horizon. She pulled a strand of hair out of her face and let it blow behind her in the wind. Hermione looked over at Harry, and he dropped his gaze to his hands, which had started to sweat while grasping the handle of the Firebolt.  
  
"How much farther, Sirius?" she called to him, glancing down and back. "I don't think my bag is tied on tightly enough"  
  
"Only about ten minutes more," Sirius answered back. "It should hold for that long, you think?"  
  
Harry looked over to see if he could retie the straps for her, but he couldn't see that they were loose or anything. He glanced at Hermione's face; she was looking at him. He became very interested in his broom handle again.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked with a smile.  
  
"Nothing," Harry said.  
  
"Harry, you - Oh no!" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione's Centaur-Twenty wobble and something fall. It was her bag, which was heading straight towards the backyard pool of a muggle house. Harry plunged his hand in his pocket for his wand, but Hermione had hers out already.  
  
"Wingardium Levi-ohhh!" Hermione tried to flick her wand, but apparently couldn't control her broomstick with just one hand. The bag continued its descent. Harry tensed his arms and went into a dive after the bag.  
  
'I'll never make it,' he told himself. 'It's only a matter of seconds until it.'  
  
Harry's jaw dropped and he slowed to a halt seven feet above the pool. The bag was floating just above the water's glass-still surface.  
  
"Did you do that?" he called up to Sirius.  
  
"No." His godfather shook his head, helping Hermione steady her broom.  
  
Then Harry heard something behind him. Out of one of the open windows on the second floor poked the head of a boy. He was staring open mouthed at the wizards and witch on their broomsticks. Harry saw him look down towards the pool.  
  
"Your bag fell," he said in a small voice. "I. . . I think I stopped it, though. . . "  
  
Harry steered his broom to the window. The boy seemed scared, and looked like he was going to run away, but he courageously stayed put as Harry approached, and even summoned enough nerve to ask Harry a question..  
  
"How are you doing that?" he asked, looking at the broom. "It's like. . . like magic."  
  
Harry just smiled as Hermione got her bag and Sirius strapped it to her broom again.  
  
"What's your name?" Harry asked the blonde haired boy.  
  
"Kay," he answered slowly.  
  
"How old are you, Kay?"  
  
"I'll be ten this Tuesday." Kay smiled as Harry reached into his pocket.  
  
"Hold out your hand. . . consider this an early birthday present." Harry had been reading about a spell and hoped he knew it well enough for it to work. He waved his wand.  
  
"Accitium!" It was a more complex summoning spell than the one he learned for the Triwizard Tournament; the trinket that Harry knew to be in his trunk materialized in Kay's fingers.  
  
Kay's eyes lit up as he examined the small, golden lion. "Thank you!"  
  
"Hope to see you in Gryffindor next year," Harry said slyly.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Never mind." Harry pointed his Firebolt towards the sky. "Good-bye, Kay."  
  
Harry joined Sirius and Hermione and they continued on their way.  
  
"Where did you get that lion?" Hermione asked him, fascinated. "And when did you learn that spell?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "You've got a lot of spare time when you live with the Dursleys, especially when-" Harry cut himself off abruptly.  
  
"When what?" Sirius asked, suddenly concerned. Hermione glanced at him uncomfortably.  
  
". . . When they have guests," Harry said hesitantly. Hermione shot him a skeptical look, but Sirius just nodded.  
  
"Who was it. . . that Marge woman you blew up years ago?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered quickly. "That's why I had so much time. They made me stay in my room for two weeks straight to make her think I wasn't there."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth as Hermione stared at him. "How much longer did you say it was, Sirius?" he said, attempting to change the subject. She stopped looking at Harry and smiled at the small house in front of them.  
  
"Actually, we're here." Sirius said, lowering himself to the ground. A swarm of trees surrounded the house, bathing it in comfortable darkness. Harry noticed a name plaque next to the door, but it was too far away to read. He began to doubt how safe it could be, since it was located only a few miles from a large suburb. Sirius, Harry and Hermione each untied their trunks or bags and walked towards the house.  
  
A broad grin appeared on Harry's face as he read the name next to the door, and he knew instantly that he would be safe  
  
REMUS LUPIN. 


	14. Loving Safety

Sirius rapped on the door lightly and shifted the small bag draped over his shoulder. Harry tried to peer inside one of the windows, but it was too dark to make anything out besides a large grandfather clock on the opposite wall. He saw Hermione yawn out of the corner of his eye and it somehow made him realize how exhausted he himself was. She wiped away the yawn- tears from her eyes and Harry smiled.  
  
"Come on, I know you have to stay the whole night with me, but you don't have to cry," he chided.  
  
"I'm not crying, shut up," she laughed.  
  
Soft footsteps approached them and the door opened. Remus Lupin's tired, aged eyes caught Sirius's and they both smiled.  
  
"About time you showed up. I was getting worried," Remus said. He looked towards Harry and winked.  
  
"Yes well, we've had a bit of a change in the plan." Sirius motioned toward Hermione. One of Remus's thick eyebrows rose curiously when he noticed her standing there. She pursed her lips and shrugged, as if to say it wasn't really her fault that she was there on his doorstep in the first place.  
  
"The more the merrier," Remus said as he relieved Hermione of her bag. "Come on inside, all of you."  
  
Harry wasn't sure why, but he loved the smell of Lupin's house. It was like the rusty old smell of a basement, without the moldiness. As the other walked away, Harry inhaled deeply, feeling as if some terrific memory should accompany the scent of the aged house, but no matter how many times he breathed it in, he couldn't quite figure out what his mind was trying to recollect.  
  
He was so distracted, Harry wasn't watching where Lupin, Sirius and Hermione had gone. The foyer had closed doors on the left and right, a staircase leading upwards and a hallway ahead leading into the kitchen. He was then bewildered to discover that the room was lit quite well, because he was able to read the unearthly late hour on the grandfather clock. Harry almost went back outside to assure himself it was a magical charm on the windows to make them look dark despite the brightness inside, but he heard something from upstairs.  
  
"Harry? You awake down there?" Lupin called. "Come on up!"  
  
He pulled his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage up the stairs (he had let her loose at the beginning of their journey to hunt for whatever she pleased).  
  
Remus bowed him into the second room to the right. There were two twin beds so close they almost touched. Hermione's bag was draped over the one furthest from the door. Harry set the cage down in the corner and pulled the trunk up to the side of his bed, sat down on the downy mattress, and opened it the trunk  
  
"Oh, no need to unpack now," Lupin said lightly, "I've got food in the kitchen."  
  
"Actually, they've both had a very long day," Sirius said. "It might be best if they get some rest." Harry couldn't have been more gratuitous towards his godfather for saying that. It took all of Harry's energy to keep his head from falling onto the pillow.  
  
"Thank you so much," Hermione said to Remus as he and Sirius headed for the door.  
  
"Of course," he answered. He nodded toward the door near Hermione. "There's a bathroom through that door there, and the closet is the other door. Oh, and don't open the windows, they have charms on them to keep muggles from seeing inside." Lupin smiled in a fatherly way at them both. "So, I suppose I'll talk to you in the morning?"  
  
"Sure, goodnight," Harry said, and Sirius and Lupin left, closing the wooden door softly behind them.  
  
Harry opened his trunk the rest of the way and opened the laundry bag that held his pajamas. He tugged his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor in a heap. Then, remembering with embarrassment that Hermione was in the room, Harry pulled on his nightshirt quickly as she disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
He didn't bother himself with anything else besides blowing out the candle, and climbed in between the soft covers of the bed. He felt as if his neck and shoulders had never been properly relaxed before, and his foot finally stopped aching from the fracture he had gotten earlier that day.  
  
It doesn't even seem like everything happened today, Harry thought to himself. It's only been one day. . . and how many times have I nearly died?  
  
He had almost forgotten everything in his exhaustion, everything about The Visit. It was nice to forget. Harry wished he could just fall asleep, and not wake up, to keep from facing the difficult road he knew was ahead of him.  
  
He saw the room light up through his closed eyes as Hermione opened the bathroom door, and then it got dark again as she shut it. He felt her presence as she climbed into the adjacent bed.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry," she said softly.  
  
He had to shift his head so that his mouth wasn't facing the pillow. "'night 'Mione," he mumbled sleepily. The room became slightly darker as clouds blocked the moon and Harry felt himself drift into a dream.  
  
"I love you," he heard.  
  
His eyes opened slowly and he turned towards Hermione, but she was facing the other wall and she breathed deeply.  
  
That was odd, he thought to himself. He shut his eyes and went to sleep. 


	15. Harry, Hermione, and Lupin

The next day Harry woke to the savory smell of bacon, which clouded the dream he had been having. It was about new, shiny shoes, and they had repeatedly kicked him all over until he couldn't move any more.  
  
He got up and stretched, feeling his back cracking into place. He turned around to see if Hermione was awake yet, but her bed was vacant, and neatly made. He dressed, the smell of breakfast growing stronger. Harry yawned, and wondered how long he had slept. He went downstairs without bothering to make his bed or pick up his night clothes.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," Hermione greeted him, as he ambled into the kitchen, his hair more unruly than ever.  
  
"Sleep well?" Lupin asked, brandishing a plate full of food in front of Harry.  
  
"Yes," Harry said, taking the plate and pulling out the chair next to Hermione. "Where's Sirius?"  
  
"He's still asleep," Lupin said brightly. "And rightly so... I don't think that man has had a proper night's sleep for a long time."  
  
Harry saw that Hermione was studying that morning's Daily Prophet as if there would be a quiz on it later, while feeling around her plate for a piece of bacon. She didn't seem to realize that her sleeve was dipping into her eggs.  
  
"Anything new?" Harry asked. Hermione frowned.  
  
"Not much other than a story about the people who are going to protect you. It is a bit odd, though... well look."  
  
Hermione slid the newspaper over to Harry. It was unusually colorful. He saw immediately why this was. The front page had only the one story, and the rest was covered with advertisements. It wouldn't have been so bad if the advertisements weren't for very expensive things, like new broomsticks imported from America, or golden cauldrons... and then Harry spotted a large ad for some beautiful shoes, the same ones Fudge had been wearing the day before.  
  
"It might be nothing, Harry," Hermione suggested meekly. He sighed, and pushed the paper away. "Maybe Voldemort is putting money back into the economy to scare you?"  
  
"Not likely," he said, taking a drink of milk.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Lupin said. Harry had almost forgotten he was there. "You're safe here, and can stay as long as need be."  
  
That day passed quickly. Harry and Hermione tried to keep themselves busy with a very very old chess set, but it was difficult to direct the pieces because they either had complaints of pain in the hips, or fell asleep and needed to be prodded awake in order to move. One of Harry's bishops refused to move at all, which proved to be a great disadvantage.  
  
Sirius woke in the afternoon, and left with Lupin in the early evening. Lupin needed more food to last a couple weeks, and Sirius said he wanted to chat with him, so Harry and Hermione were left alone. After losing to Hermione for the fifth time (and after cursing his stubborn bishop), Harry suggested they go to the basement to see if there was anything interesting down there. Hermione shrugged, and agreed to go with him.  
  
"I wonder if he's got any odd creatures down here?" Harry said. "Remember his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes?"  
  
"Of course I do," Hermione replied, stepping carefully down the staircase after him. "But it's not like he'd actually keep those things in his basement. Most of those I'd keep as far away from my house as I... what's wrong?" Hermione stopped two steps above Harry. He was at the bottom, staring into the musty basement. Hermione saw what he had stopped for. It was a cage, a tall one, right in the middle of the room. It looked like something out of medieval times; thick and made of iron. It was empty, and Harry noticed it had a peculiar locking mechanism. It could be unlocked and locked from the inside if the person in the cage had small enough arms to fit through two holes in the iron.  
  
Harry looked at the wall next to him and there was a calendar that magically projected holograms of the moon's phases in front of each day. Tonight was a full moon.  
  
Hermione pulled Harry back up the stairs, as if they'd seen something they weren't supposed to.  
  
"Ouch!" Harry said, stumbling up the last step and into the hall. "What? It's not like he forbade us to go down."  
  
She didn't say anything, just shut the door and started to walk away. Harry did feel odd seeing that cage. He kept forgetting what Lupin really was.  
  
They had seen it, though, and it was awkward when Sirius and Lupin arrived home at sundown, laughing as they entered the front door, like old friends.  
  
"Evening!" Lupin greeted them with a smile. Harry observed the very tired and weary eyes. Sirius unloaded the paper bags and began pouring them all drinks. When he served them, Harry noticed that Lupin's was smoking a bit, while everyone else's was smoke free. It must have been the potion to help with the transformations. Harry wondered how Lupin was getting it, unless Professor Snape lived nearby.  
  
Sirius shuffled them to bed, and they weren't nearly as tired as the night before. Harry and Hermione each took long showers, and then stretched out onto their beds with awake eyes.  
  
"You asleep yet?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"No," Harry answered.  
  
"Me neither."  
  
Harry smiled at this obvious proclamation.  
  
"Did you... remember about Lupin?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Me neither... I felt awful."  
  
Harry swallowed dryly, realizing that Hermione had felt just as he did.  
  
"I mean," she continued, "I forgot all summer and all of last year. It's not fair... he never has a chance to forget." She paused for a long time. "And that cage..."  
  
Harry didn't say anything. The room grew slightly brighter as the moon emerged from behind a cloud. They lay in silence, alone with their own individual thoughts which were surprisingly very different.  
  
They heard a growl and the sound of iron clanging against iron. It was very dull, but they heard it anyway, and then it was quiet again.  
  
Hermione sniffed, and Harry realized she was crying. He lifted an arm, and hesitantly placed it on her shoulder. To his great surprise, she sat up and pulled him up with her, and embraced him tightly.  
  
"It's not fair," she whispered. "I don't want you to die!"  
  
Harry's eyes widened, realizing she was extremely stressed. It was worse than end of year exams third year.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, pushing away, and then wiping her tears from her cheeks. "I don't know why I started thinking about the Visit all of a sudden... I'm just so sad about Lupin, and what if someone followed us?"  
  
Harry tried to make a connection to those two different thoughts, but it didn't happen. She must have noticed his odd expression.  
  
"I don't know, I'm so confused!" Hermione lay back down and sniffed. "Just promise me you'll be safe!"  
  
"Of course," Harry said. "I don't want to die either." He lay down also, this time a little closer to Hermione's bed so she might feel better.  
  
"I'm sorry," she repeated.  
  
"It's okay," he assured her, reaching over to her bed and taking her hand in his. He stayed that way until sleep had taken them both.  
  
Little did they know, a scuffle had started just outside the house. The night was cool for summer, and the full moon illuminated the woods surrounding Lupin's home. It also shone on the two tall figures, who met between the two tallest trees in the yard and argued before pulling out wands. Purple and orange lights began shooting through the night air, and it wasn't until one of them collided with the window above Harry's head did he wake.  
  
"What's that?" Hermione said, frightened.  
  
Harry didn't say anything, just jumped out of bed, and sprinted to the stairs. He met Sirius at the base of them.  
  
"Come on," Sirius said, and opened the front door.  
  
"No! Harry don't go out!" Hermione fretted from the top of the staircase.  
  
"It's okay, He'll be with me." Sirius beckoned to Harry to follow him, so he did.  
  
They ran out, and turned the corner to the side yard. Two wizards were on the ground, attempting to force a wand out of the other's hand. They were rolling over each other, and yelling loud enough for any muggle neighbor to hear.  
  
Sirius and Harry blasted them apart and each snatched a wand. Harry's eyebrows rose, and looked down at the wand he had just obtained.  
  
It was so familiar, but it couldn't be...  
  
"Harry!" One of the figures stood up, and Harry could see by the light of the moon, it was Ron.  
  
"What's this?" Sirius said, and headed over to the other wizard.  
  
"Don't touch me!"  
  
Harry couldn't believe his eyes; it was Draco Malfoy.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked him in an accusatory voice. Malfoy raised his hands up, and Harry realized it was because he was brandishing his wand at him.  
  
"Ask him," Malfoy drawled, looking at Ron.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked.  
  
Malfoy looked at Harry with an odd expression that Harry realized must have been the way he looked when he talked to everyone else but him.  
  
With no sarcasm in his voice, he said slowly, "Why do you think he would be sneaking around if he wasn't here to kill you?" 


	16. Friend or Foe?

"He's lying!" Ron said fervently over his shoulder as Sirius ushered both him and Malfoy into the house. "Harry! Watch out, he's here to kill you!"  
  
Malfoy just silently walked where Sirius led him, for once in his life keeping his mouth shut. His jaw was clenched, and he gave Ron murderous sideways glances. Harry followed behind them all at a distance, confounded that either of them could have found where he was.  
  
He suddenly felt very unsafe and caught himself up with his godfather, his best friend, and his worst enemy, and closed the front door behind them. The moon was setting, and the sky was getting lighter with the dawn.  
  
Sirius sat them down at the kitchen table.  
  
"God, you're Sirius Black!" Malfoy suddenly exclaimed. Sirius silenced him with a threatening glare.  
  
"Ron," Sirius said, turning away from Malfoy, "explain yourself right now."  
  
Ron gulped at Sirius' expression of accusation towards him, but began his story.  
  
"I was at my hotel room two nights ago, and, well, I was scared for Harry because of everything that had happened that day, so I decided to try to find him... I mean, if I could find him, surely a bad bunch of wizards could find him too, and I'd be able to warn him! So I went to Tom, and he said you went to your girlfriend's house, which I thought must be Hermione, but realized you probably wouldn't have told him where you were staying." Ron was still out of breath but was explaining himself very quickly. "So I was trying to think of where Sirius could go to be safe.... since only a few people are his friends."  
  
Malfoy swallowed, and looked Sirius up and down, as if reaffirming that it was who he thought it was.  
  
"So I took the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade," Ron continued, "and checked the cave, and you weren't there, And then I went to Fin Alley to make sure you hadn't gone back there. Then I thought about Lupin, and knew you trusted each other. I found out where he lived, and I showed up a few hours ago. I didn't know Harry was here, and didn't want to knock since it was so late, so I thought I'd wait until morning... and then this git just showed up," he said looking at Malfoy, "and I knew you were here, Harry."  
  
"Now you," Sirius said to Malfoy. "How did you get here?"  
  
"I saw you leave two nights ago," Malfoy drawled, "on your broomsticks, so I decided to follow you. I wanted to see what Potter and Granger were up to with a strange man. You flew low, so I kept high above you on my broomstick. I lost you when I flew into a cloud. It was right around that muggle town, so that day I walked around the main street, looking for some clues. Then, I saw Lupin and followed him home. The dog he was walking turned into you," he looked at Sirius. "And you started talking about Potter, and I knew I'd found him. I stuck around the house all night, and then Weasley was sneaking around the back garden..."  
  
"But why were you even following us in the first place?" Sirius asked.  
  
Malfoy didn't say anything.  
  
"There!" Ron said. "See, he won't tell you. That's because he's going to kill Harry!"  
  
Harry had to admit, Ron's story made much more sense. Of course his friend was trying to find him; why would Malfoy follow them?  
  
Sirius seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry.  
  
"Well, guess what, Draco Malfoy," Sirius said. "You get to stay here with us, where we can keep an eye on you." Malfoy looked as if he'd rather have a root canal.  
  
"Can I stay too?" Ron asked.  
  
"Of course," Harry answered. "Come on," and he beckoned for Ron to follow him up the stairs. Hermione was waiting at the top in her nightgown.  
  
"Ron Weasley!" she scolded. "How dare you follow us here!"  
  
"It's a good thing he did," Harry said, walking to their room. "Malfoy's downstairs."  
  
"I know, I heard everything," Hermione said, following Ron and Harry. "But still! What if someone followed Ron?"  
  
"Nobody followed me," Ron sighed. "I took a Knight Bus... nothing can follow that!"  
  
"Still," Hermione pouted, determined not to be wrong.  
  
"Still, Malfoy found you anyway," Ron retorted.  
  
When they were done bickering, Harry suggested that they go down to breakfast. It wasn't as good as the morning before; Harry and Hermione knew why. While they poked at their cereal, Lupin emerged from the basement, looking dreadful. Malfoy, at the other end of the table, ate silently, and tried to ignore his former professor's curious stares. Harry noticed that Malfoy was much more civil without his goonies there to help him. Sirius took Lupin into the next room and, Harry suspected, explained everything that had happened the night before.  
  
That week was awful. Lupin looked terrible, and spent most of the time in his room. Sirius was in charge of cooking, which left Harry, Hermione, Ron and Malfoy to fill the time. Sirius kept Malfoy's wand with his own so that he wasn't a threat to Harry. If he tried anything, Hermione and Ron would be right there to alert Sirius, so Harry didn't feel like he was in danger.  
  
Sirius told them not to leave Malfoy alone, which made that week no fun at all. Malfoy kept his mouth shut for the most part, being outnumbered and without a wand, but would never pass up an opportunity to insult Ron or Hermione under his breath.  
  
Ron, especially, hated this new arrangement, and was constantly trying to talk to Harry alone to get away from Malfoy, but Hermione would complain and they would bicker and Malfoy would tell them to shut up, and Harry would silently agree. Night time was the only time the trio had each other to themselves. Malfoy slept in Sirius' room, while Ron slept on an inflated mattress in Harry's and Hermione's room. Ron tried to get Hermione to switch places with him, and Hermione scolded him about manners, so Harry switched with him for one night.  
  
A week after they arrived, Harry received a letter by owl during lunch. Harry was about to open it when Sirius snatched it from his hands.  
  
"It's from Hogwarts," Harry said hastily, "it's okay."  
  
To his relief, Sirius gave it back without opening it. Harry stuffed it in his pocket, and a few minutes later said he had to use the restroom. He put the lid down and sat on top to read his letter.  
  
As he expected it was from Dumbledore, but the message wasn't an encouraging one.  
  
Harry, It is important, now more than ever, that you return to the Dursley home immediately. I know you feel safe with your friends, but the safest place is at your muggle family's house. I will not force you, of course, the choice is yours. I hope you will make the correct one. Albus Dumbledore  
  
Harry reread the letter, and thought for a long moment before ripping it in half, and then in half again. He was about to throw the pieces away, but put them in his pocket instead, to make sure nobody found it. He wasn't going back to the Dursley's, and he especially didn't want Hermione to know that Dumbledore wanted him there.  
  
Hermione and Ron had to wait until that night to ask what the letter was about. Malfoy had been around them all day so they didn't have a chance.  
  
"It was nothing, just a note from Dumbledore," Harry explained.  
  
Hermione looked worried. "What did it say? Are you in danger?"  
  
"No," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "He just told me to be safe."  
  
"And that's it?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Just be safe?"  
  
"Why didn't you let us see it, mate?" Ron yawned, climbing into bed.  
  
"I couldn't let Malfoy see it," Harry said, putting his hand in his pocket to make sure all the pieces were still there.  
  
The next morning an owl arrived with four letters from Hogwarts. The book list was nonexistent; instead, there was a small note explaining how library books would be duplicated and passed around to each student, due to the money shortage.  
  
With only four days left until they could ditch Malfoy at King's Cross Station, Harry, Hermione and Ron were slightly happier than usual. Hermione, Ron and Malfoy each had to get their belongings, so Lupin took them on the Knight Bus to each of their houses. Harry was left alone with Sirius.  
  
"Why do you think Malfoy came?" Harry asked his godfather over lunch. "Do you really think he would have killed me?"  
  
Sirius looked like he'd rather not talk about this. "Well..."  
  
"Because we, Ron and I, I mean, we were in Diagon Alley that first day, and right before we went to the scaffolding, we met Malfoy."  
  
Sirius was very interested in this. "How far before the scaffolding?"  
  
Harry waved his hand, "That doesn't matter. The thing is, he told me he wouldn't even have to kill me... that somebody would do it for him."  
  
"He could have been trying to trick you," Sirius said. "If he thought you weren't looking out for him, then it would be perfect."  
  
Harry took a bite of his sandwich. It just didn't make sense.  
  
"If you're doubting Malfoy's motives, you know that means that Ron..."  
  
"Ron isn't lying!" Harry said suddenly. "But Malfoy isn't acting normally at all. I thought it was because his friends weren't here with him, but maybe he was really just curious and really thought that Ron was sneaking around that night."  
  
"Maybe both of them are innocent," Sirius suggested.  
  
That night, Harry lay awake while Hermione slept next to him, and Ron's light snores came from somewhere near the floor. Harry couldn't sleep at all, so he gingerly got up from the bed, and silently left the room. He went down to the kitchen to get a drink of water, and was surprised to find Malfoy sitting at the table with his own glass.  
  
"What are you doing down here?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"I can't stand being around you all day and then Black all night," Malfoy scoffed. Harry got himself a drink and sat down.  
  
"Aren't you afraid to be with me alone?" Malfoy rolled his eyes.  
  
"No."  
  
"Well then why can't you just tell them to let me go home? I'm sick of this place! I never should have followed you." He looked honestly fed up with Lupin's house and the company there.  
  
"Why did you follow us?" Harry asked.  
  
"Why do you stick your nose in everyone's business?" Malfoy retorted. When Harry didn't answer, Malfoy said, "Because you're curious... that's all I was."  
  
"You were just curious, then?" Harry asked.  
  
Malfoy hesitated. "Yeah."  
  
"I don't believe you." Harry said. "I want to know what would make you so interested in me and Hermione all of a sudden?"  
  
"What do you want me to say?" Malfoy hissed. "That I wanted to kill you? That I was going to murder you in your sleep? Believe me, I'm not the one who's going to be doing that at this rate."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Why would I kill you a week before my 16th birthday?" Malfoy said, his eyes narrowed at Harry. "I wouldn't get anything! If you really want the truth, I'll tell you! I followed you so that you wouldn't get killed before my birthday. I came to..." Malfoy dropped his gaze, "to protect you..." he chuckled slightly, "and I never thought it'd have to be from the Weasel." 


	17. The Accident

It took Harry a very long time to get to sleep that night. After his conversation with Malfoy, he went back to bed and stared at the white ceiling. At least he would be at Hogwarts soon. only four more days and he would finally have a chance to spend time with someone other than Ron, Sirius, Malfoy and Hermione. Lupin wasn't around long enough for Harry to get sick of him. He seemed to be out a lot, and Hermione speculated he was constantly making sure no strange wizards were showing up in the area.  
  
As the wind blew at the window softly during the night, Harry couldn't help but hope that Ron was innocent, despite the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept him awake. Why else would Malfoy say those things? It would take a lot for Harry to tell Malfoy he was protecting him from anything, and imagined it was the same for Malfoy. If Ron wasn't guilty, there was still a chance that Malfoy wasn't either, like Sirius had said earlier. But, a nasty voice in his head whispered, they could both be guilty, too.  
  
The week passed, and it was finally time for them to leave Lupin's house and go to Hogwarts. The morning was spent packing and loading their trunks into the taxi Lupin had called. Harry noticed Sirius watching him from the top of the stairs as Harry was coming back inside for the last of his things. His godfather was gripping the handrail, and a strange expression crossed his face when Harry caught his eye.  
  
"Come upstairs when you're done?" Sirius asked awkwardly, and Harry nodded.  
  
When Hedwig was in her place in the backseat (much to the disgust of the cab driver), Harry went back inside to Sirius.  
  
He was still gripping the handrail of the banister above the foyer, and Harry climbed the steps, and stood next to him. They were silent, looking down and out the front door. Several times, it felt like Sirius was going to say something, but he sighed and shut his mouth instead.  
  
He finally turned to Harry; "There's nothing I can say," He began, "that can force you to be safe. You are already in danger, and there's not much you can do to change that." Harry swallowed dryly. "But you can easily make it worse, which is what I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
Harry could see where this was going. He'd have to promise to stay out of the forest, out of Hogsmeade, away from everyone except his friends, and never leave their sight.  
  
"Please don't roll your eyes," Sirius sighed, "because I have been thinking about this for a long time. Your parents are counting on me to keep you alive, and I'm not going to be able to keep an eye on you. not that I'd be able to anyway, if you've got any of your father in you. The point is, you need to keep yourself alive, and I think the best way to do that is to stay away from everyone. even Ron and Hermione."  
  
Harry was surprised.  
  
"What do you mean? Why?" He asked.  
  
"You can't trust anybody, Harry, except yourself. Don't trust anything you hear unless your own ears and eyes were there."  
  
"But I can trust-"  
  
"Nobody." Sirius' voice dropped to a whisper as Malfoy came through the front door and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
"If I can't trust anyone to tell me what's going on, how am I going to know if something bad will happen? Like in Diagon Alley?"  
  
Sirius was gripping the banister very tightly now. "You'll eavesdrop, spy, snoop, break rules. whatever it is you've done every other year to gain information, only this time without your friends."  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. Sirius was actually telling him to break rules and spy on people! But he'd have to do it without Ron or Hermione.  
  
"It's so hard for me to tell you to do this," Sirius continued, "but you're dead meat if you sit around like a good boy, waiting for someone to kill you. You understand, don't you?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"And you can't breathe a word to Hermione or Ron-"  
  
"Okay."  
  
They exchanged a brief goodbye and Harry went down to the taxi, which was ready to go. He squeezed into the back seat with Ron, Hermione, and Hedwig's cage. Malfoy was up front with the driver.  
  
Lupin waved them off, catching Harry's eye. He nodded purposefully at Harry, and then continued to wave as they drove away.  
  
They arrived at the station quite early. By the time they reached the barrier, there was still a full half hour until the train was to leave.  
  
Before they raced through the barrier, Malfoy turned to them and said, "I stayed with my uncle in Germany for the past two weeks. not with you lot."  
  
"Well, it's not like we're going to be bragging about you staying with us," Ron scoffed. Malfoy leered at him, but didn't say anything more.  
  
"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, and they both walked casually into the barrier and disappeared onto the platform.  
  
Malfoy turned to Harry.  
  
"I'm serious. nobody can know I stayed with you. If my father found out he would kill me." Despite his stone-set face, Harry could definitely sense a note of slight panic in Malfoy's voice.  
  
"I won't say a word about it."  
  
"And-Be careful around Weasley."  
  
They stood there awkwardly for a long moment.  
  
"Well, you go through first," Malfoy said in his usual drawl. "I won't go through at the same time as you, Potter."  
  
So Harry nodded, and ran through the barrier, totally unprepared for what met him on the other side.  
  
"THERE HE IS!"  
  
A flashbulb erupted in front of Harry's face as he came through the barrier. Stars blinked in front of his eyes, but still knew he was completely surrounded by people. Slightly panicked, Harry clutched his things and pushed toward the train.  
  
"He's alive!" Harry couldn't tell if the voice was surprised or disappointed, but maybe it was just his imagination.  
  
A man was shoved right at him, and Harry nearly toppled over.  
  
"Stay away from him!" another wizard said, and looked as if he was going to punch the first wizard.  
  
"Everyone step away, please!" A girl with a prefect badge on her muggle shirt managed to disperse the crowd enough to let Harry through.  
  
"They've all been wondering where you've been," Hermione explained quietly as he met up with her and Ron at the side of the train. "Cornelius Fudge was trying to find you, apparently, and you weren't at your muggle family's house. You better come up with a story soon."  
  
"It doesn't look like they're all sending kids off to Hogwarts." Harry observed. He didn't recognize any of them in the crowd, and there were far too few students there for each of them to bring their parents and create such a large group.  
  
But more students were arriving by the minute. Every time one of them caught Harry's eye, they looked away quickly  
  
"Harry doesn't need to make up a story! Just tell them it's none of their business," Ron said severely. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"It would be much easier just to make something up rather than challenge everyone who asks," she reasoned. "And it will seem less suspicious."  
  
Harry agreed, and tried to think of a story. but nothing came to mind. He had no relatives to visit anywhere, not unless you counted the Dursleys. He shrugged at Hermione and Ron. "I've got nothing."  
  
"You can say you stayed with me in Australia," Hermione suggested, "that's where I told my family I went, just in case someone went to my house."  
  
"Sure," Harry said, "as long as everyone knows I wasn't hiding out ---"  
  
"HE'S BEEN HIDING OUT!" a voice cried from behind them. Harry's stomach dropped as he realized that someone had been eavesdropping; a goofy looking wizard with a bad leg hobbled away from them to educate the crowd that whatever alibi Harry could come up with would be a lie.  
  
"So what?" Harry said, boarding the train. "So they'll know I've been hiding out. Who wouldn't if they were in my shoes?"  
  
"I'm just afraid they will figure out where you were hiding." Hermione said, following Harry and Ron down the aisle of the train.  
  
"Yeah, we could put Lupin in danger, and Padfoot." Ron said.  
  
"Hush!" Harry turned around. "Don't say anything else about it until we're alone!"  
  
They chose a compartment, and settled in. It was 15 minutes until the train should leave, and the platform was completely full with students and the crowd from earlier. Harry saw the witch with the camera conducting little interviews, and assumed she worked for the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly.  
  
"I'm nervous," Hermione said, peering out the window. "I mean, there are so many people around and none of us have been very informed about what's going on."  
  
"What if I went out there and told the reporter a bogus story about where you were hiding?" Ron suggested. "They'd believe me, since they think you're going to lie about where you were."  
  
"Okay," Harry said. "What are you going to tell them?"  
  
"How about you were hiding in the tunnels under Fin Alley the whole time? That's where Sirius was going to hide you anyway. That won't give them any clues, as to where you really were."  
  
"Are you sure, Ron?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You've got a better idea?" Ron retorted, and nodded at Harry as he left the compartment.  
  
"What do you think is going to happen when we get to school?" Hermione wondered.  
  
"I'm going to have to watch out for falling chandeliers," Harry replied, and smiled.  
  
"Don't joke about that!" she said, wide eyed. "I mean it. Do you think Dumbledore is going to help you out?"  
  
"What's he going to do, make a new rule forbidding anyone to kill me?"  
  
Hermione looked down, and Harry could see that tears were forming in her eyes. He sighed.  
  
"Hey. don't worry, Hermione." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, I think Dumbledore will do whatever he can to keep something from happening." He pulled out a tissue from his bag and gave it to Hermione. She just held it in her hand without using it, so Harry took it back and wiped the few tears off her face.  
  
She looked up and into Harry's eyes. He felt the friendship between them, as if it was something tangible. They leaned towards each other, Hermione's teary eyes reflecting the light of the train compartment, and kissed.  
  
It wasn't romantic, or breathtaking, and it wasn't very long at all. They didn't love each other; it was much greater than love. They were friends, and Harry knew that she was going to stick with him no matter what. She smiled, and settled back into her seat.  
  
"Gah!" Ron burst into the compartment. "There are way too many people out there! 'Hey Ron, have you seen Harry?' 'Hey Ron, do you know where Harry's been?' 'Hey Ron, have you got nothing better to do than talk to me?'"  
  
"So did you tell the reporter?"  
  
"Yeah, and she believed every word of it. Gave me this," Ron opened his hand and showed them a silver sickle.  
  
"Wow, she must have really been desperate," Hermione said. She didn't even look like she had been crying.  
  
"She was. as soon as I approached her, she was like, 'Aren't you Harry Potter's friend?' and I knew I had her." Ron seemed a bit upset after saying that. Harry knew that Ron was sick of being referred to as the friend of a famous person.  
  
The train left the station, leaving the large crowd behind, and Harry felt much better. Ron said he wanted to say hello to his brothers, and left Harry and Hermione alone for a while.  
  
Hermione fretted about not being able to read any of her schoolbooks since none were assigned. Harry reassured her that she would be far ahead of the rest of the year in no time. Ginny popped in to say hello a while later, looking for Ron, and left when he wasn't there.  
  
He came back around lunchtime, and they were all three quite hungry.  
  
"I don't suppose you want anything off the trolley either?" they were asked. The old lady pushing the cart looked forlorn.  
  
"Three pumpkin pasties!" Ron said happily, and handed her the sickle.  
  
"Oh my!" the lady said. "You are one of few to buy anything. students have no spending money, poor dears."  
  
Ron carefully picked out three pasties, and handed one to Harry and Hermione.  
  
The witch continued on up the train.  
  
Harry's stomach growled agreeably as he swallowed down the pasty. A few minutes passed and the three of them felt much better. The subject of conversation turned to their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
"I hope the new one is as good as Lupin," Harry said.  
  
"What about Moody? He wasn't so bad when he wasn't plotting your death," Ron said. He and Harry laughed and Hermione just ignored them.  
  
"As long as Snape hasn't snagged the job," Harry sighed. "That would be awful."  
  
Ron and Hermione both agreed.  
  
"I think it would be nice to have a female Dark Arts teacher," Ron said, and wolf whistled. Hermione, who was rummaging through her belongings for a cloak, gave him a look.  
  
"Why are you getting your cloak out?" Harry asked. "It's burning up in here."  
  
"You might be burning up. I'm freezing."  
  
Ron looked worried. "Are you feeling sick?"  
  
"Actually, I think I am." Hermione wrapped the cloak around herself. Harry felt her forehead.  
  
"You're really warm," Harry said. "Have you been feeling sick before now?"  
  
"No." She whimpered. "I don't know what's the matter with me." Harry moved to sit on Ron's side, so Hermione could lie down across two seats.  
  
"Do you think we should tell someone?" Harry asked.  
  
Ron shrugged hopelessly. "Who would we tell?"  
  
"Maybe the conductor?"  
  
"What could he do?"  
  
Hermione moaned, and clutched her stomach. Tears of pain started to pour down her cheeks, which were already covered with cold sweat.  
  
Harry felt panicked. She was turning pale very quickly, and he didn't know what to do.  
  
"Go, Ron, you have to tell someone!"  
  
Ron didn't argue, and hurried out. Hermione's breathing sounded labored and shallow.  
  
"Make it stop, Harry," she croaked. "It hurts."  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't. It'll be okay." He pulled her sweaty hair away from her face. "It'll be okay."  
  
She convulsed violently, and Harry pulled his hand away, gasping. When it was over, her eyes were shut.  
  
"Hermione, stay awake!" Harry cried, grasping her shoulders. She was no longer hot, but very cold; he could feel it through her cloak. Her eyelids lifted weakly.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Harry whispered. "Please be okay!"  
  
"Harry?" Her eyes seemed unfocused.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"That's all-" she gasped for air, "that's all I need to know."  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around her, and cradled her limp body in his arms.  
  
"You will keep me safe." she breathed.  
  
"No. Hermione don't go!" Harry choked through the lump in his throat.  
  
Ron appeared in the doorway with an adult wizard. Neither of them spoke.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry cried. But she didn't answer. Her chest rose one last time, and she exhaled softly; a final tear ran down her face. 


	18. Numb

  
Author's Note 

_Thank you all reviewers, especially the recent, desperate, anonymous ones who helped motivate me to pick up this fic again. I began The Visit over two and a half years ago, and have been anxious to finish it as I've known the ending since the beginning. I hope you will all continue to motivate me through your reviews. Thank you all!_

The Mediwizard that Ron led to Hermione was quick to banish Harry and Ron from the compartment. He examined Hermione while Harry and Ron waited just outside in the train's corridor.

"It'll be okay, mate," Ron said. "She... she might not be—"

"She's dead, Ron," Harry interrupted, stone faced. He was staring at a spot on the ceiling, wishing he could get rid of Hermione's words from his memory. She had been in so much pain, even though it happened so quickly. There was no question in Harry's mind that she was dead; he was holding her, he felt the life leave her. He wished it could have been him instead...

Harry paused, dropping his crossed arms. It _was_ supposed to be him. The realization stung more than if someone had slapped him across the face. What could it have been? A curse that hit the wrong person? No, they had been alone in the compartment. A magical virus? Harry hadn't ever heard of that, but he was wildly trying to come up with an explanation for her sudden sickness.

Then it hit him: Poison. She had been poisoned with something that was meant for him. The pumpkin pasties...

Harry gave Ron a sideways glance, not bothering to hide the fact that he was suddenly deeply suspicious of his friend who had spent his only sickle on a train-ride snack. Ron wasn't looking at Harry, though. He was trying to see through the opaque glass of the compartment door, incredible worry etched in his face.

"Stop looking in there; she's dead," Harry said again, studying Ron's repeated reaction of denial.

He felt like a shell of a human, unable to feel anything, as if he was witnessing his life from another person's eyes. Why was he suspicious of Ron? It was because of Malfoy's warnings, he decided. But Ron only bought the pasties; it could have been the old lady with the cart, or the reporter who had given Ron the money, or any of the strange wizards or witches who were on the platform at King's Cross.

But how would anyone but Ron have known which one was poisoned? He was the one who chose which pasties to give them. Unless more than one was poisoned...

As if on cue, Harry heard a scream from the front of the train.

"Help! Please! Somebody help!"

Since Harry and Ron were already in the corridor, they were the first to arrive at the compartment. It was a painfully familiar scene; Parvati and Padma Patil were in the compartment and Lavender Brown was curled up on the seat exactly like Hermione had been, cold sweat and all.

Ron ran to get the Mediwizard, but Harry just stood and watched Lavender convulse exactly as Hermione had.

"Help her, Harry!" Parvati was crying. "Please!"

Harry didn't help her, though. He saw half a pumpkin pasty on the ground, and that was enough evidence for him; he knew it was too late.

He ran up the corridor and caught up with the old lady who pushed the cart.

"Who bought pumpkin pasties?" he asked. She jumped, looking as though nobody had ever interrogated her about her candy sales.

"Tell me!" he demanded when she didn't respond quickly enough.

"You did, and the girl in there," she pointed to Lavender's compartment. "And there," she nodded to the door behind her.

Harry opened it. There were three second year Ravenclaws sharing their newly bought pasty, and it was almost gone. They innocently looked up at Harry, who didn't know what to do...

Harry and Ron found a compartment near the front and stayed there as pandemonium ruptured throughout the train as news of the poisoned pasties traveled like wildfire. The head boy and girl had to banish all the students back to their compartments and ordered them to stay there with their doors shut until the train got to Hogsmeade.

The suddenly overworked Mediwizard tried to save Lavender but it was too late, as Harry had predicted. One of the three second years didn't make it, while the other two were very ill, but alive. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who had each eaten half of one, didn't get sick at all but almost made themselves ill with angst about the possibility of being poisoned.

Ron looked devastated, staring out the window at nothing in particular and wringing his hands numbly, seemingly unaware that they were shaking slightly.

"You okay, Ron?" Harry asked, breaking the oppressive silence.

"No," he replied, not looking away from the window.

Harry suddenly felt terrible about suspecting Ron. As much as Ron and Hermione fought, they were as good of friends as Harry and Ron were to each other. And even if Ron tried to kill him – which he wouldn't, Harry quickly told himself – he wouldn't have poisoned the entire batch of pasties and killed others in the process.

As easy as it seemed for Harry to accept that Hermione was dead, it still wasn't real to him. She would get better somehow, she would discover an antidote to cure her death-like sleep and the three of them would grow up together as they had always planned. While his brain could say to itself "Hermione is dead," his heart wouldn't believe it.

When they arrived at Hogsmeade, Harry had never seen everyone so eager to get off the Hogwarts Express. He didn't know where Hermione and Lavender's bodies were, and he was anxious to know where they were so that he could be sure to not see them as they were taken off the train. If he saw her dead, it would mean it was real.

Harry and Ron were last off the train, the mild autumn night greeting them more warmly than they would have expected. The two second year girls who had become sick from the poison were levitating on either side of Madam Pomfrey, who was hurriedly boarding one of the horseless carriages. It took off immediately towards the castle. The crowd of students was silent, and Harry saw why; Albus Dumbledore was on the train platform, his light blue robes glowing in the moonlight.

He began to speak, and while Harry could clearly hear the words, they didn't mean anything to his addled brain.

As Dumbledore gazed over the students' faces during his speech, he stopped at Harry. Harry lowered his eyes, as if he could hide his feelings from the headmaster's penetrating stare. Not wanting to look at Ron, either, Harry turned to face the train. At the very back entrance, someone was exiting the train, followed by a levitating body covered with a white cloth.

Harry closed his eyes. Dumbledore's speech was creating a distraction so that the dead bodies could be removed without the students noticing. Harry wished he hadn't seen.

There was no feast that night. The first years were sorted privately and escorted to their houses. Food was brought to the common rooms, and the students ate in near-silence.

Harry didn't eat at all; instead he retreated to his dormitory, closing the curtains around his bed while still clothed. He hadn't even changed into his robes on the train, he realized suddenly, and was still fully dressed as a muggle.

Ron was the first of his roommates to come up, as Harry could see through a crack in his curtains. He changed very quickly and went to bed. Neville came up next, not bothering to hide a few sniffles. Then came Seamus, who sat on the edge of his bed for a long while, looking deep in thought. When Dean arrived, Harry was surprised to see Parvati by his side, crying as softly as she could manage.

"Thank you again, Dean," she whispered.

"It's fine," he said consolingly.

"I just couldn't stand going up there... I mean, there's only one bed now!" Her cries became louder, and Dean gently shushed her, pulling back the covers and sitting her down on his bed.

"Where will you sleep?" she whispered.

"The floor's comfortable enough."

Harry shut his eyes as Parvati's gentle sobbing subsided. Her presence aggravated him, a constant reminder that Lavender and Hermione were really gone and it hadn't all been a dream. He slipped into a dreamless sleep, dreading the time when he would be forced to accept all that had happened.


	19. Nooses and News

The next morning, Harry woke earlier than everyone else in the entire Gryffindor dormitory. The sky looked as if it still could have been night, dark and saturated with stars, except for the lighter blue tinge touching the eastern horizon. Knowing it would be useless to attempt to go back to sleep, Harry dressed himself in the dark and on his way out nearly stepped on Dean, who was curled up on the ground underneath two of his black robes. Parvati was asleep in Dean's bed, and she hadn't bothered to shut the curtains around her.

Harry tried to ignore the new surges of grief that coursed through his chest as he left the room.

He wanted to go about his day as if it was just another first day of term -- a day searching for classrooms in the maze of Hogwarts' corridors and complaining about the first round of homework. The first round that he'd have to complete without Hermione's help.

When he reached the bottom of the second staircase on the way to the Great Hall, Harry heard his name called from the other end of the corridor. It was Professor McGonagall.

"The Headmaster has asked for you," she said softly. Harry was immediately angry with her for pitying him, and said nothing as he changed his course from the Great Hall to Dumbledore's office.

When Harry reached the place where he was to give the password, he had none to give, and since he was in no rush to see Dumbledore he didn't bother guessing. But after less than a minute of standing silently, the statue began to move on its own accord.

Harry entered Dumbledore's office silently. The headmaster was leaning up from his fireplace, obviously just finishing a floo-powder communication with someone.

Dumbledore asked him to sit, so he did. Harry tried to look bored, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The headmaster began talking. Harry learned that Hermione, Lavender and the second year Ravenclaw – a boy called Paul – had been examined by Snape and Madam Pomfrey through the night; no antidote could be found, and they were proclaimed dead in the early hours of the morning. This was not a surprise to Harry.

Dumbledore was obviously expecting some kind of reaction; the headmaster stared at Harry anxiously for a long time before continuing his melancholy explanation. Hermione and the other students had been transported by floo powder back to their parents and their funerals would be held later in the week.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Harry interrupted, his voice more indignant than he actually meant it to be.

Dumbledore stopped. "I wanted to eliminate any feelings of…" he seemed to be trying to find the right word, "feelings of uncertainty about the future you might have had."

"You thought I wouldn't believe that Hermione was dead."

"In short, yes, that's what I thought. It's quite obvious now that I was wrong." Even as Dumbledore said this, his tone made Harry uncomfortable – as if his headmaster knew that on one level, Harry could never believe she was gone.

"I understand what happened," Harry emphasized loudly. "I'm not a little kid; I know what death is. I've seen it before." Harry rose from his seat to leave, turning toward the door. "I'm going to be fine."

Dumbledore's urgent voice halted Harry. "I can pretend to believe that you're accepting Hermione's death, but you're far from being fine, Harry."

"Why am I in here?" Harry said, turning. "What is it that you really want me to do?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Harry returned to the common room, he was in a very bad mood.

Ron, who had been waiting there since he'd awakened, was concerned immediately. "What's wrong… apart from the obvious? Did something else happen?"

"Dumbledore's forcing me to stay in a secret dormitory until The Visit date passes." Harry slumped into a chair crossly.

"Well," Ron said quietly sitting across from him, "maybe it's for the best."

That wasn't what Harry wanted to hear, especially from Ron.

"He just wants you to be safe, right?" Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "He did a right good job of it on the Hogwarts Express."

Ron shook his head. "That wasn't Dumbledore's fault, though."

"Why are you sticking up for him?"

"Why are you so against having your own room?"

Harry didn't know, exactly, so he kept his mouth shut. Something about being confined to a secret room made him feel like a coward and a prisoner at the same time. Hadn't he been forced to stay at the Dursley's house the whole of his life? And that turned out wonderfully this summer, he thought to himself bitterly. He still hadn't told anyone why he'd run away to the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of the holidays, and planned on keeping it secret forever. Especially now that everyone wanted him dead anyway… he didn't need to give them a reason to hate him.

The more Harry thought about it, though, the less sense the Visit made. He believed that Voldemort had somehow retained a large portion of the wizarding gold, but there could hardly be enough for everyone in England to have a million galleons, could there? And even so, if everyone had a million, wouldn't that make the gold worth less in the long run?

He shared this with Ron, who shrugged blankly. To Ron, Harry thought, a million galleons was worth a million galleons – an unknown and unfathomable amount of money…

The day was a blur to Harry. He attended classes, and neither McGonagall nor Flitwick had a problem with him refusing to pay attention at all. In a very out-of-character move by McGonagall, there was no homework assigned at all for the first day, so Harry was left with an evening filled with nothing but trying to ignore how he was feeling.

When nighttime fell, Dumbledore himself entered the Gryffindor dormitory to escort Harry to his new, secret room. Harry said goodnight to Ron and climbed out the portrait hole.

He vowed to keep silent during the walk through the castle, only nodding at Dumbledore's instructions to keep the location and password a complete secret.

Then, unexpectedly, Dumbledore asked: "Why did you run away, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, his heart beating quickly. Dumbledore would know if he lied, or probably knew the truth already. Harry wanted to keep his vow of silence…

"I spoke with Ollivander, the wand-maker," Dumbledore said conversationally. "He saw you the day after you left your Uncle's house…"

"He told you I had a black eye," Harry interrupted shortly.

"I know that you have had a hard time there," Dumbledore said, sadly. "I wouldn't have expected you to stay…"

"Well then I'm glad I didn't," Harry interrupted again. It seemed like Dumbledore didn't know what had happened, and Harry wanted it to stay that way.

They arrived at a painting of a beautiful girl, about Harry's age, who smiled upon seeing them round the corner.

"This is Emilia," Dumbledore introduced. "She's deaf, so the password you use will be a hand gesture." Dumbledore raised his left arm, and waved his right hand over it, as if he was slowly fanning a burn on his inner arm. Emilia smiled again, and her portrait swung forward.

The tiny room smelled very old, but very clean. It was taken up almost entirely by the dark-wood bed and wardrobe. Dumbledore bid Harry good night, and Harry was left alone.

Imprisoned, he thought. Voldemort had figured out a way to beat him, if it wasn't getting others to murder him, it was torturing him with imprisonment and the death of one of his closest friends.

The long ropes that hung from the posts of the bed were very thick, and for an instant, Harry could see himself hanging from the end of one of them, putting himself and the wizarding world out of its misery.

He scared himself enough that he decided to go to sleep, hoping to feel a fraction of a bit better in the morning.

But the next morning brought news that was worse than any he could have hoped for.

The owls swooped in early during breakfast, dropping their parcels and letters and newspapers. Something on The Daily Prophet caught Harry's eye, and he grabbed Ron's copy.

It was a picture of himself, looking guilty and embarrassed, alongside another picture of his Aunt Petunia, who was sobbing into her bony hands. The caption underneath read: "Harry Potter, brutal abuser of female family member."

Ron looked horrified. "Rita Skeeter can'tve been up to something, can she? She's been banned from writing!"

But it hadn't been written by Rita at all, and Ron turned to Harry and asked: "What is this all about?"

Harry was silent, and could feel himself turning red as he heard his fellow students discussing the news loudly.

"Harry," Ron whispered. "You didn't actually hit her, did you?"

Harry started to shake his head, but closed his eyes, nodded, and said: "Yes."


	20. Behind the Silence

Aunt Petunia's picture lowered her hands from her face, and Harry felt his chest tighten. He had run away so quickly after it all happened... he didn't know he'd hit her so hard. Her left cheekbone looked like it had been broken, then healed back incorrectly. Her face looked lopsided and somewhat deformed. He stared at her like he would a train wreck: feeling disgusted and horrified, but unable to pull his eyes away from her. He stared until Aunt Petunia put her hands over her face again and walked out of the frame, sobbing.

He didn't even read the article - he turned the newspaper over, to keep from having to look at his own guilty face. New pictures looked up at him instead: the faces of the dead Hogwarts students, including a melancholy-looking Hermione. He couldn't escape from any of it.

Harry ripped the newspaper in half, then in half again. He wiped the shredded pieces from the table in one long swoop of his arm, determined to rid himself of any evidence of the pain that he had caused.

"Harry..." Ron's voice sounded not entirely his own.

"I didn't mean to hit her," Harry said to Ron under his breath. Ron leaned in closer, cautiously, to hear him. "I wanted to hit my uncle, but she got in the way. He hit me first, that's why I had the black eye..."

"Harry!" Ron hissed suddenly. The door to the Great Hall was opened, and dozens of Ministry officials filed noisily into the hall. Most of them had copies of The Daily Prophet tucked under their arm or rolled up in their hand. Harry noticed that some of them weren't Ministry workers at all, but all of them looked angry. Dumbledore stood from his seat at the front table. Students rose from their benches to get a better look. Harry ducked down and crawled towards Dumbledore.

"Gentlemen, Ladies!" Dumbledore's voice rang out over the increasingly noisy crowd. "I must ask that you leave my students to eat their breakfast in peace."

"We're here for Harry Potter!" one of them yelled.

"He's got this to answer for!" another one cried, waving his copy of The Daily Prophet at Dumbledore.

Harry wished for his invisibility cloak as he got closer to the front table. Behind the teachers' table was a door that was near a staircase, which was one corridor away from his hidden dormitory. If he could get through that door, he'd be safe.

"Harry Potter must be brought to the court!" a witch screamed.

Harry's heart plummeted when many of the students around him agreed. He did, of course, know that what he did wasn't right, but the sense of injustice everyone was feeling seemed like too much. He silently willed everyone to stay standing and for their attention to stay on the witches and wizards in the center of the hall as he ducked close to the windows.

But he knew hiding wouldn't last.

"He's here!" a seventh-year Gryffindor cried out to the officials.

Harry stopped trying to hide and sprinted towards the teachers' table. He had hoped that being on the Gryffindor side of the hall would have the advantage of secrecy, but knew that the older students had a lot to gain if this somehow led to his death. Someone grabbed his robe to stop him, and he fell on the hard floor.

"Let me go!" he yelled, and he pulled out his wand. Before he could even think of a spell to use, someone snatched his wand right out of his hand. It would have been bearable if the faces surrounding him were strangers, or even Death Eaters, but they were fellow Gryffindors who held him down for the Ministry officials

"Stop!" Dumbledore growled, but it was no use. Before he or any of the teachers could do anything, the front table was showered with charms and spells from the witches and wizards who continued to pour through the doors of the Great Hall. Most of the teachers, including Dumbledore, were frozen in place, the rest were stuck to their seats, or had their wands struck from their hands.

Harry couldn't take it all in. He was numb to what was happening around him. He remembered the courtroom from Dumbledore's pensieve, and could all too easily see himself chained to it in front of the court, his aunt there with her deformed face that he caused, and dementors ready to take him to Azkaban.

The students who held Harry down were suddenly knocked off their feet by a well-placed spell. Some of his fellow students were fighting off the Ministry officials, and were even starting to fight each other.

There was no denying that the adult witches and wizards had a wider range of spell knowledge than the students, but as Harry -- now free from the students who held him down -- searched for his wand, he heard that the students were much more creative with their spells. Ministry officials were floating in the air, articles of clothing unraveling off their owners' bodies, and one witch had eyebrows that had grown so long that she couldn't see through the curtain of hair in front of her eyes.

Harry was hit with his share spells, but always seemed to have someone nearby to repair the damage.

"There is enough good in the world," he whispered to himself as a fourth-year Hufflepuff unjinxed his legs. He desperately hoped Ron was right.

Then, as if thinking about him had conjured him there, Ron was at Harry's side, followed closely by Malfoy.

A particularly angry-looking witch burst through the crowd and stood in front of Harry, her eyes bright with fury. She raised her wand.

"Avada Kedav--"

Before she could finish, Malfoy yelled out a spell Harry didn't know, and she screamed, dropping her wand as if it burnt her skin.

It was immediately apparent to Harry that the mob wasn't out for justice for his aunt; they were going to kill him then and there. Without his wand, he had no chance, so he gave up his search for it and fled for the door with Malfoy and Ron at his heels. The two of them managed to deflect hexes for Harry as he sprinted down the corridor towards his secret dormitory. He sped around corners, hoping that Ron and Malfoy were keeping up, and that there would be no more unforgivable curses used.

Ron screamed "Locomotor Mortis!" and Malfoy blocked a spell. Harry never thought he'd be so happy to have Malfoy on his side, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

When he arrived at the painting of the beautiful deaf girl, Harry stuck out his left arm and motioned with his right hand for the password. She looked concerned, but she nodded and the portrait swung open. Malfoy came around the corner, and shoved Harry into the room.

"Close it!" Malfoy yelled, as Ron turned the corner. The portrait was shutting, and Harry motioned to Ron.

"Quick!" Harry yelled. If Ron hurried, he could make it inside, too.

"No!" Malfoy pointed his wand at Ron, but Harry stepped in the path. Ron jumped inside.

The portrait sealed shut just as the mob turned the corner.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath through the stitch in his side. This was it; he really was a prisoner in the room now. He heard the witches and wizards yelling out different would-be passwords to the girl.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry scrambled to his feet. Malfoy and Ron had their wands pointed at each other, facing off in a duel.

"Stop!" Harry yelled, and jumped between them. Malfoy shoved him aside instantly, never taking his eyes off of Ron.

Ron sputtered out a hex, and Malfoy blocked it. It took Harry several seconds to realize that Ron's hex wasn't directed at Malfoy at all, but at Harry.

"Ron..." Harry muttered. Ron stood on the other side of the tiny room, shakily pointing his wand at Harry.

"So there's really enough good in the world?" Harry growled, red-hot rage building in his chest. There was banging on the other side of the portrait, and increased yelling.

Ron just stood, angry tears in his eyes and his face twitching with nerves.

"I'm not a bad person," Ron said in a dangerous voice, keeping his wand fixed on Harry.

"The hell you're not!" Harry yelled. "Look at you!"

"You think I want to do this?" Ron spat. "I'm just thinking of my family. I NEVER wanted it to come to this."

"Right," Harry said. "You NEVER wanted your family to be rich. You're a real hero."

"DON'T TELL ME ABOUT BEING A HERO!" Ron screamed, shaking his wand at Harry. "You're the one who beat up your aunt! If YOU were a real hero you would have sacrificed yourself weeks ago before anyone got hurt! It's your fault Hermione is dead!"

Harry swallowed. The noise on the other side of the portrait was silenced, and Harry was sure they could hear their conversation. His ears buzzed in the silence. Ron wiped his wet eyes furiously. Malfoy stood near the door, his own wand pointing at Ron, ready to defend Harry.

"So you're going to kill me, then?" Harry asked quietly. He suddenly remembered Malfoy and Ron fighting at Lupin's house, how Malfoy had warned him about Ron. He felt sick to his stomach.

"You've been wanting to kill me all along," Harry said shakily, his heartbeat pumping so hard that it was affecting his voice. "You were the one who bought the pasties on the train, the one that killed Hermione."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "I didn't--"

"You gave me the wrong one," Harry continued, remembering the pain in Hermione's eyes.

"It wasn't--" Ron said, but Harry interrupted him again.

"How did you poison them in the first place? How could you be sure which one was safe for YOU to eat?" Harry advanced towards Ron, his fury building to a point of no longer caring that he was without a wand.

"I didn't poison them!"

"You gave me the wrong one!" Harry repeated. "YOU killed Hermione!"

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT! I GAVE _YOU_ THE POISONED ONE!" Ron gasped at himself, and looked horrified.

"So, you knew they were poisoned?" Harry asked.

"She said there was only one," Ron sounded defeated, "she told me which one to give you, but she was wrong. It wasn't my fault... it was hers."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"The reporter who gave me the money for the pasties," Ron said. "She lied to me. If I'd known there was more than one poisoned one, I would have told someone."

"What a hero."

Ron glared at Harry. "I don't want my family to starve - I don't want anyone's family to starve. If The Visit passes and You-Know-Who keeps all the money, we will have nothing. Wizard coins are impossible to duplicate, and they're the only thing we've been using for thousands of years. It'll take a long time to create a new currency and a lot of people are going to suffer for it."

"So you're going to give in to Voldemort?" Harry asked. Ron cringed at the name. "He told me that he needed me to be dead. You think it's just an issue of pride? What if he knows something we don't? Why else would he come after me as a baby? Why does he need me to die?" Harry was talking to himself as much as he was talking to Ron. "If we give in to him, something bad is going to happen."

"If I let you go, someone else is going to kill you anyway," Ron said. "Malfoy will protect you until his birthday, but he'll turn on you, too."

Malfoy said nothing, and Harry knew that it was true.

"Now they're out to arrest you because of what you did to your aunt... you'll be captured and someone will kill you."

Harry felt trapped. The witches and wizards on the other side of the portrait had begun trying out different passwords again, and continued banging on the wall. Even if Malfoy beat Ron in a duel, he wouldn't be able to leave the room safely. Ron was right.

Somehow, Harry knew it was going to end up like this. He knew he wasn't going to survive, but he never thought it would be because of Ron.

"He can't kill you," Malfoy said. "He doesn't want to kill you, so he can't. Avada Kedavra doesn't work unless you really want it to."

"Well then I won't kill him," Ron replied. He walked to the door, which was shaking from the pounding of the Ministry officials on the other side. He was going to let them in.

Malfoy moved, as if to stop Ron, but Harry held up his hand.

"Don't," Harry said. "If this is what Ron wants, let him do it."

"It's not what I want," Ron muttered darkly. He reached for the knob. Harry swallowed, realizing that Ron was going to do it. He'd truly lost his best friend.

"Tell Sirius goodbye for me," Harry choked through the lump in his throat, holding back his tears with every ounce of energy he had left in him. He wasn't going to die crying.

"I will."

The door opened. Harry stood up straight as the wizards and witches advanced on him. A bright green light erupted in front of his eyes.

Dying, thought Harry, took a long time. He felt every minute of his whole life drag out as if he was reliving it all again, but it all happened in an instant. Even the memories he thought had been lost to him were resurfacing. His mother giving him a bath in a warm tub, stroking his wet hair, his father's strong hands holding Harry's as he learned to walk. Dumbledore's comforting squeeze before placing him on the doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive. He relived it all, until the very moment of his death, and he looked at Ron one last time. Even through his anguish, Harry couldn't help but hope that his friend wouldn't suffer anymore.


	21. Epilogue

AN Yes, yes, this is REALLY it now. I sort of tricked you with that last bit, but this is it, now, when you get to see repercussions. I know it took forever to write (heck, Jo managed to write two whole books in the time it's taken for me to finish this one fic!) but it's one of those projects that I felt like I NEEDED to finish. Thank you all for being great readers and reviewers!

Epilogue:

(almost 1 year later)

Ron gained consciousness, gasping for air and clutching his new wand with all his might as the effects of the choking spell wore off. He picked himself up off the ground, coughing while getting himself to his knees, wet mud saturating his trousers all the way through.

The Burrow towered in front of him, flames growling out of every window, eating every new possession within.

"Mum!" he tried to shout, but all that came out was a rasping breath.

He saw his father on the ground about ten meters away from the Burrow. He stumbled to him as fast as his injured body would allow.

"Dad?" he whispered frantically, falling down at his father's side. He shook his dad's shoulders, hoping to wake him up. Ron felt the coldness of the body through his father's shirt, and pulled his hands back sharply, wildly thinking that if he didn't feel the lifelessness that it wouldn't be true.

Ron looked up and saw four Death Eaters filing out of the flaming front door. He jumped to his feet, anger burning through him.

"Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, squeezing his wand so tight that his hand was white with tension. The curse was blocked.

Ron was hit with another choking spell, and he desperately gasped for air. The shortest of the Death Eaters approached him.

"I'm truly sorry," he drawled. Ron shook his head, recognizing the voice as Draco Malfoy's.

"You knew I didn't want Potter to die before my birthday," Malfoy continued, and he took off his Death Eater's mask. "You knew... and this is what you get for killing him." Ron's vision became less clear, but he could see that Malfoy was smiling. Ron's heart ached for his family, and burned with anger towards Malfoy. Ron fell to the ground, his muscles yearning for oxygen. He began to see darkness. He felt Malfoy crouch next to him, his face very close to Ron's.

"Well," Malfoy whispered cynically, "at least your family didn't starve."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron mouthed, hoping that Harry would somehow know.

"I'm sorry..."

The Burrow shifted; new sparks and flames shot out of holes in the roof as the second story toppled onto the first. Entangled in the smoke above, rose a skull and a snake.

THE END


End file.
